


Meet the Marners

by Dekka



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016-2017 NHL Season, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent! Auston, Parent! Mitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13297287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: Auston pretends that he isn’t feeling the need to, like, co-parent a kid with Mitch Marner. He’s heard crazier ideas. He’ll sleep it off. It’s fine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So since I finished my other kid fic i thought i'd start another one based off the same meeting scene, just with a different hockey couple :)
> 
> Everything in this is, sadly, pure fiction

It’s not Auston’s fault that he never really learned how to cook. Between hockey, school, and making it into the NHL it’s not like he had time to sit down and listen to his Mom’s culinary words of wisdom. 

Now that he’s alone in Toronto for the first time, his Dad back home for the next week, he really wishes he would’ve at least tried to pay attention every time she made him something. 

His own, very valiant, attempts at cooking tonight left his fingers burned and kitchen in shambles. It’s not easy being nineteen and on your own. He just hopes his Dad isn’t too mad when he sees their freshly scorched stove backdrop. 

The saving grace of the night is the empty aisles of the grocery store. It’s quiet enough here that he’s unworried about being recognized, roaming the sections looking for something that’ll fill him up without giving their trainers a heart attack. 

It’s just his luck that he runs into Mitch Marner. Their apartments are pretty close, so it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, but Auston still freezes, his empty basket swinging in his hand at his abrupt stop. 

Mitch is probably one of the guys he considers himself closest to on the team, even with the season just beginning, so he doesn’t turn tail and run like he would otherwise. At worst, he thinks, Mitch will chirp him for the slightly smokey smell that’s been following him since his very small, nearly insignificant, _kitchen fire_. Just as Auston’s getting closer, though, he stops again. 

It’s just- there’s a kid on Mitch’s hip. 

He’s got familiar, shaggy, sunny-brown hair, and wide, blue eyes. 

It has to be a sibling or a cousin, or something. Auston’s just not the best with kids, but like, he’s good with Mitch, who’s practically a toddler, so he finds himself pushing forward anyway. 

“I’m pretty sure kidnapping is illegal, like, everywhere,” he greets. Surprise attacking Mitch this late at night in an empty store maybe isn't the smartest plan. He jumps a good foot in the air, cradling the kid a little closer. It’s kind of adorable, the way little Mitchy goes all protective. Once his wide eyes find Auston’s though, he visibly relaxes, smile breaking over his face as his free hand goes to clutch at his chest. 

“Yeah, Canada tends to frown on that,” he answers, breathless, bouncing the kid in his arms. The little guy won’t stop staring at Auston. It’s a bit unnerving. 

“This is Parker,” Mitch introduces, when he notices that Auston is meeting the kid’s stare head on. Parker smiles, then, at hearing his name and at Mitch’s easy smile. 

As far as kids go, he’s pretty cute when he’s not glaring Auston down. 

“Hi, Parker,” Auston says, his voice oddly high-pitched, because what do you even say to a kid? He doesn’t even know if the little guy can talk yet. 

“Is he-?” he starts, then cuts himself off, afraid of offending Mitch somehow by asking who the kid belongs to. 

It must’ve been the right choice either way, because Mitch’s smile weans. “He’s mine, actually,” he says, only a little stunted. 

And, like, Auston’s seen Mitch try to lie before, he’s pretty bad at it, so he knows he’s telling the truth. 

His reaction is maybe a little tacky. “You’re shitting me,” he blurts out, deadpan. They've known each other for all of two months, but still, this is kind of big. 

Mitch’s smile is quick to drop. “Yeah, kind of why I don’t broadcast this to the team,” he snipes sarcastically. He’s already placing the kid back in his cart, trying to get distance from Auston as he heads down the aisle. 

Admittedly, it takes Auston a second to process the last few minutes before he’s jumpstarting himself, following them to the next section of canned goods. _Mitch has a kid. A secret kid_. He realizes he's maybe been a bit of an asshole.

____

____

“Mitchy,” he calls, feeling guilty all the way down to his toes. “I didn’t mean anything by that, I was just surprised,” he defends. Mitch keeps trucking right along, seemingly determined to ignore Auston. 

“Common, Mitchy, please,” he begs. Finally, it’s enough to draw Mitch to a stop. Auston can see that his grip on the cart is iron-tight. 

“I was just surprised,” he says again. This time Mitch deflates, turning to him. 

“So many people treat me differently once they know,” he says, something almost hopeless in his tone. Auston won’t let himself be one of those people. 

“I won’t,” he promises. 

He gets a small smile for his efforts, but they’re left plunged in an awkward silence. 

It’s Auston’s disgusting, natural reaction to spit out word vomit when he’s hurt someone, and judging by Mitch’s hard-set eyes, he’s really hurt him. He can't control it when it starts, “I’m here because I almost burned down my kitchen and I set off all the alarms in my building and firefighters had to come.” The words come out fast, all in one, seemingly endless, breath.

Mitch’s eyebrows raise, a smile starting to grow across his face. He seems to be waiting for more. 

Auston hiccups, trying to hold words down, his mind screaming at him. Before he can stop himself it’s happening again, “the firefighters, they yelled at me in front of my neighbors. It was pretty bad.” 

Mitch snorts and something in Auston’s chest loosens at the sound. “I’m sorry if I was rude,” he says, genuine and not at all because of his loose mouth. 

Waving the apology away, amusement dancing in his eyes, Mitch smiles at him. “You’re great at apologies,” he chirps. 

Even with his cheeks heating, Auston shrugs. “I don’t do it often,” he says, honestly. 

“If you really want to apologize though, you could do me a favor,” Mitch suggests. There’s a evil smile spreading across his face that scares Auston more than he’d like to admit. 

He figures he deserves whatever’s coming his way. “Yeah, Mitchy, what do you need?” A small favor is the least he can do for being such a jerk. 

“Parker’s second birthday is tomorrow and it would be cool if you’d help me chaperon?" Auston can tell that Mitch doesn't think he'll actually say yes. 

Tomorrow’s their first day off at home in two weeks. No practice, no games, nothing. He was planning on not leaving bed until five pm and ordering Thai food over some Netflix. 

Auston shrugs away his freedom, “I guess I can make an appearance.” 

Whatever totrure he's agreed to is worth it for the smile Mitch beams at him, his face openly surprised. “I was kind of joking,” he teases, but Auston’s already in it for the long run. “I want to go,” he counters, “you can’t invite me and then tell me not to come.” 

When Mitch laughs his head throws back, carefree, his smile back to it’s usual wide-spread and it's how Auston knows they're okay again. 

“Your funeral,” Mitch teases. It’s a little intimidating. 

Still, the next day, Auston turns up at Mitch’s door, a toy truck in one hand and, as a joke, a signed ‘Matthews’ jerseys in the other, for Parker. 

The door swings open to screams, spraying silly string, and a frantic, panting Mitch. 

“Thank God,” he cries, dragging Auston into the mess by the collar of his shirt before he can run. The door, as it shuts behind him, echos like a death sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after this chapter this fic will be a lot different than my other kid fic so hope you guys like it :) 
> 
> Comments feed the writer!


	2. Chapter 2

Overall, the party’s not as bad as Auston expects. He just happened to walk in during a really monumental moment of a silly string fight that he honestly thinks was more for the adults present than the kids. They, apparently, needed to let out some steam. If anything, the party's tame now.

There’s a lot of Mitch’s extended family here, so mostly the kids are taken care of and Auston’s just left to roam around, occasionally trying to help Mitch out a bit by picking chunks of silly string out of his couch and carpet. 

He’s been there a while, doing his best to stay away from the soccer moms that try to talk to him about their _very talented sons_ , when Parker waddles up to him. At first Auston just looks around, because, like, this kid maybe shouldn’t be trotting around the apartment by himself, but no one around him seems too concerned, so he guesses it’s probably okay. 

“Uh, what’s up?” he asks. He still doesn’t know if the kid can talk. 

Parker doesn’t seem worried with conversation, though, he just plops himself down in front of Auston and starts running a little toy train through the frayed edges of the carpeting. 

It’s amusing to watch a kid be so encaptured by a hunk of plastic. Auston even spares a thought to what Parker must be imagining as he flies the train up into the air. 

Over and over again the kid takes the train in circles, parks it under the couch, takes it out in another circle, then flies it through the air. The repetitive motions are soothing, leaving Auston almost hypnotized by the pattern, enough so that he’s surprised when Parker makes a sound, a soft “choo” noise that must be his impersonation of the train. 

For a while that pattern continues, too; occasional, rhythmic hums sounding from Parker. 

Eventually, though, the pattern switches again, Parker looking up to him as he asks, “choo?” Auston knows he’s asking because he shoots almost a questioning gaze up at him, holding out his train like an offering. 

And, like, who could say no when they’re being stared down by those big, blue eyes? 

Very aware that he’s too big for this, Auston settles himself on the floor, cross legged, next to Parker. The little boy seems sweet, quiet, but mostly just happy that Auston’s joined him. He’s even smiling through the too-big binky that’s dangerously dangling from his mouth. 

Gently, as if it’s his most prized possession, Parker hands the train to Auston, placing it in his giant palm. 

“Chug,” he mumbles. Auston guesses it translates to ‘play now’, so he drives the train through the tracks left in the carpeting and looks to Parker to make sure he’s doing it right. 

The kid seems happy enough with him, but he still clumsily gets to his feet a second later to wobble to the chest of toys in the corner. When he comes back he’s clutching a bigger train to his chest. 

“Pah,” he explains, showing the new train to Auston. He gets the feeling he’s not supposed to grab this one so he just nods and smiles, hoping it’s enough. 

After Parker shows off his train, they both end up on their bellies, moving the toys in the circle around them, Auston making any noise he thinks a train makes whenever Parker looks at him expectantly. 

When Mitch finds them, nearly an hour later, he hovers for a second, a soft smile on his face. Auston knows his cheeks are heating under the gaze. It’s even more embarrassing when Parker looks to him again and Auston gives in, making the ‘choo’ sound that always seems to make the kid smile. 

Looking up to Mitch, he’s met with poorly concealed laughter and the front of Mitch’s phone camera. There’s no way that video will stay dormant for long. Auston can see the headlines now: _Leafs rookies act their age._

“Fuc-,” he cuts the swear off, looking wide-eyed to Parker. The kid seems unconcerned, though, pushing Auston’s train back under the couch that they’ve mutually decided is the train depot. 

“Park,” Mitch calls, thankfully ignoring Auston’s near slip-up, and bending down by them. His kid’s head pops up at the sound of his name, but he doesn’t seem too pleased, even as Mitch smooths back his wild mess of loose, shaggy curls. 

“You’ve got friends here, Parker, why don’t we let Auston hang out with the adults?” Mitch is so gentle with him. It’s like a completely different side of him. He’s normally bouncing off the walls, endlessly energetic, the pump-up guy in every room. Seeing him like this is different, more intimate. Auston swallows past the lump is his throat. He’s probably just getting a cold or something. Kids have a lot of germs. 

“No,” Parker decides. He nudges Auston, then pulls his train back out. Mitch sighs, like this is a regular debate between them. There’s not much left of the little back and forth, though. Mitch just pulls Parker up to his feet, even as the little boy’s eyes fill with tears. 

“Common, Baby, you’ll play with Uncle Chris,” Mitch soothes, and that, at least, helps the kid’s eyes clear. 

“Say bye to Auston,” he prods as he scopes Parker up and balances him on his hip. Next to each other it’s so obvious that he’s Mitchy’s son. They’ve got so many similar features, but at the same time they’re so different in personality. 

Auston half expected the kid to be like Mitch on crack but he’s surprisingly tame. Even though he can’t talk much, the other kids around them seem to be on an endless stream of babbles but Parker just stays quiet, his big eyes taking in the world around him. 

“Bye, Park,” Auston says. He shakes the little guys hand, gives him back his train, and then pretends he isn’t a little upset to see Mitch carrying him back to the other group of toddlers. 

Seeing him next to the other kids, he can tell that Parker’s definitely smaller than them, but Auston doesn’t know much about, like, what ages stuff happens, so he can’t really tell if he’s too small or doesn’t talk enough.

“Parker likes you,” Mitch says when he comes back, his kid left sitting silent between his cousins on the other side of the room. 

Auston sees him take the smaller train he was holding and put it down, then watches another child snatch it up and Parker’s sad eyes follow it as it gets tossed and thrown. It’s kind of heartbreaking. Auston barely stops himself from going over there to get justice against the little satanist with the pigtails and flower shirt who decided to trash the toy. 

“Parker could’ve stayed here,” he finds himself saying. Mitch looks surprised but it’s good, Auston thinks. 

He’s kind of blushing when Auston looks at him again. “I’m just- I’m trying to get him to interact with kids his age,” Mitch says, obviously a little out of his depth. He blushes deeper before he explains, “This book I’ve been reading said since he’s not in daycare yet that I should try to start to introduce him to playing with others and like, sharing.” 

“You’re a good dad,” Auston tells him, not even chirping him for the book he’s apparently reading on parenting techniques. 

If anything, it makes Mitch blush harder. "I'm glad you know about him," he says all sincere and gentle, looking to Auston like he's really seeing him for the first time.

He doesn't know if it's the look or the words, but Auston can't ignore that his own face is heating to match Mitch's. It's not Auston's fault. Mitch shouldn't be allowed to look at him like that, not while blushing and saying sweet things. 

Still, Auston forces a smile, ignoring the ten degrees the room gained in the last minute. "I'm glad I do, too," he says. 

***

With so much planned relaxing to do, Auston didn’t expect to stay for long, but as more and more people and their kids leave, it seems like Mitch will need help to make his apartment livable again. 

So once everyone’s gone they end up shoulder to shoulder at the sink, Mitch scrubbing at dishes while Auston distractedly dries them. 

At the kitchen table Parker’s sitting quietly, drawing. His tongue is sticking out from how hard he’s concentrating on his picture and his binky sits abandoned among the splay of crayons he’s deemed unworthy. Auston maybe takes a picture on his phone, sends it to Mitch, and captions it ‘putting in work.’ Whatever. Parker’s a cool kid. It's snapchat worthy. 

“You don’t have to do all this,” Mitch tells him, but only after they’ve put away all the dishes. He chirps Mitch for it, but accepts the beer he gets handed as payback, anyway. 

It’s familiar to settle down on the couch with Mitch, even though they’re at Mitch’s instead of his place, the tv only background noise as they talk, but now Parker settles between them, too. He’s still got his drawing in his hands, but he’s enamored by the Tv. 

“Tired, honey?” Mitch asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. He’s obviously talking to Parker, but Auston’s temped to reply as a joke. The words are lost, though, as the kid snaps open his sleep-heavy eyes and shakes his head, hard enough that Auston’s worried the binky, now back in his mouth, will fly out. It surprisingly hangs in there and Mitch accepts the blatant lie. "Pushover," Auston chirps, gentle. 

It only takes a couple more minutes of their low voices volleying back and forth until Parker’s head starts bobbing, falling in sleep. As soon as he starts leaning, falling against Auston’s side, Auston gives in to the inevitable and pulls Parker in to cozy up in the crook of his arm. 

“Night, dude,” he whispers. When he looks back up to Mitch he’s openly staring at them. “You guys are adorable,” he admits, and Auston can only shrug, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. 

A phone call interrupts their silence, Mitch’s Mom wondering how the party went, so Auston’s left alone in the dim light from the Tv, watching the changing colors dance across Parker’s sleeping face.

Having never held a sleeping kid before, Auston doesn’t expect the serene way his breathing slows, matching to each tiny inhale and exhale that Parker takes. In sleep, the kid’s hand has found a way to wrap around the thick of Auston’s shirt, as if reassuring himself that his friend is still there as he snoozes. 

There’s something that feels so huge about the way Parker just trusts him, knowing that Auston will hold him against his chest and keep him sleeping safely no matter how much his arms burn from the tiny weight he’s been holding for so long. 

When Mitch comes back he practically tries to shoo Auston away, giving him an out, but Auston’s comfortable, even after they’ve finished their beers and put on a movie and his arms hurt enough that he’s forced to lay back so that he doesn’t have to hold up as much of Parker’s weight. It leaves him and Mitch on opposite ends of the couch, their legs tangling between them and Parker drooling into the collar of Auston’s shirt. The movie Baby Boss ends up being fucking hilarious and Auston cant help but picture Mitch carefully holding Parker as a baby when he was probably a thousand times more vulnerable and fragile. 

“How’d you do it?” He asks. He glances at Mitch but Mitch’s eyes are already glancing to softly settle on Parker. 

“I love Parker,” he says, but there’s more there; a sadness. “It felt unfair at first, especially with all the traveling, but my Mom helped a lot and Parker’s so good. He never minded, never threw a fit, he’d just wait for me to come back all through Juniors and even now.”

Auston can’t help but smile, even as Mitch scrubs at his eyes. “Hey,” he says, and pokes Mitch with his foot. He gets a watery glare and a half attempted raise of the corner's of Mitch's mouth in return, but it’s not all sad. “Just being around you guys for a day, you can tell, Parker looks at you like you’re the sun, man.” 

In a way that makes Auston’s chest seize, Mitch’s watery smile breaks into a laugh. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he admits. Auston can understand the sentiment. Yesterday he thought he hated kids and that kids hated him. _See: Tyler Bozak’s son._ Parker just seems to have that life changing affect on people. 

“He’s really sweet,” Auston says. As if hearing him, Parker snuffles in his sleep, his binky falling out of his mouth and wetting Auston’s shirt with an extra layer of drool. 

“Cool,” he says and Mitch’s feet kick at him, this time. He doesn’t have to weather the abuse for long, though, because Mitch is sitting up, getting close enough to check on his son and gently put the pacifier back in his mouth. 

“I should probably take him to bed,” he says, but they’re sitting close now, their faces inches apart and neither can find the will to move away. 

“Yeah, I should get home,” Auston says, uncommitted, knowing he won’t be the first to break the spell cast over them. It feels like Mitch is everywhere, consuming his senses. 

Even as his eyes dance between Mitch’s and the cupid’s bow of his lips, he can smell Mitch’s aftershave and the frosting they devoured as they were cleaning up.

Parker is, surprisingly, the one that snaps them to their senses, snuggling deeper into Auston’s chest between them. It’s almost a shock to feel him move after being so sure, just seconds ago, that him and Mitch were the only ones left on this side of the hemisphere. 

“Yeah,” Auston echoes, clearing his throat, “I should head home.” This time they actually break apart, awkward in the mist of- whatever that was. 

“I’ll just-,” Mitch gestures, trying to gather Parker from Auston’s arms without actually touching him. 

Auston nearly rolls his eyes. “Mitchy, it’s okay, we’re good,” he says and they find a way to pass Parker without waking him. 

He doesn’t mean to overstay his welcome, but that doesn’t stop him from following Mitch down the hall and to Parker’s room. The little boy doesn’t even stir as Mitch tucks him in and places a worn, tiny elephant stuffed animal under his arm. 

Auston can’t ignore the thudding of his heart, not as it skips a beat. It’s nothing, he tells himself, and tries not to imagine tucking in Parker with Mitch every night. Domestic bliss is something he’s never really considered until this point. It just never seemed like something he’d want, before. 

“Goodnight,” Mitch says at the door. He looks tired but content and Auston echoes his goodbye. He cant help feeling like there’s more to said or something to be done, but he leaves it be, giving one last wave as he makes his way down to the car park. 

The drive home passes in a blur. It feels wrong, somehow, to be headed home, leaving Mitch alone in that big apartment with only Parker to keep him company. 

Sleeping in that place, Auston doesn’t even know how Mitch can hear all the way to Parker’s room. He cant bare to think of the kid waking up scared, calling out to Mitch, but unable to be heard because of the long hallway separating their rooms. 

Auston even considers turning back just to check that Mitch set his security system, but he thinks that’s maybe overreaching. He has some self control. 

When he gets home he practically floats to bed, dead on his feet from talking and placating small, screaming kids that weren’t Parker. As he’s halfway asleep, he remembers Mitch’s snap chats and shoots up.

It’s weird, seeing himself curled up on the floor, his giant hand engulfing the little train Parker entrusted him with. He replays the video, takes screen shots, and pretends that he isn’t feeling the need to, like, co-parent a kid with Mitch Marner. He’s heard crazier ideas. He’ll sleep it off. It’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have nothing else planned for this fic so let me know if you'd like to see more or what you'd like to see happen in this fic!
> 
> Comments feed the writer :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your comments made this fic come easy <3 
> 
> Enjoy the fluff, because everyone's idea of a Mitchy and Park getting a bug is going to happen next!

Auston doesn't sleep off the idea.

Not even close.

He can admit, at least, that it's more of his body's fault than his brain's, because the whole 'his world narrowing down to just Mitch thing' that happened last night on the couch, kind of happens a lot.

Like at least once, each time they're alone together.

And- something like that just isn't easy to shake.

Granted, it doesn't always happen to the degree it happened at last night, but it does happen enough that it makes them both pause in the moment, bodies drawn together by want then pushed apart by reason. 

They’re not ignoring those moments, per say, it's just- this whole thing is new. 

Toronto is new, Mitch is new, the NHL is new, and now, Parker is new too, at least to Auston.

It seems too soon, to him, to be thinking about making life changing decisions. Like he shouldn’t be so flippant about how he's imagining what it would be like to date a teammate he barely knows, despite nights spent kicking at each other, rowdy as much as they are content. 

Between the last couple of months of heart-to-hearts and sharing their fears and insecurities, it doesn’t completely fly over Auston’s head that Mitch has been hiding a really big part of his life from him. And, as much as he likes to pretend that nothing phases him, he’s still a little hurt that it took an accident for Parker to be introduced to him. He thought he knew Mitch better than anyone. 

Of course he understands _why_ Mitch kept it all a secret, but still, there were so many times he could’ve told him and he just chose not to and Auston's forced to remind himself that Mitch is still Mitch, even when bathed under the glaring light of Guardianship. 

If anything, the sudden adult-shaped spotlight on Mitch should be a good thing. It’s forcing Auston to mature and come to terms with the idea that he’d really like to kiss his teammate, but that he maybe can’t for more than one reason or another. With one of those reasons being Parker.

Auston's, reasonably, not willing to gamble with the kid's love, too, just because he finds his breath catching every time the boy’s Dad looks into his eyes, or, like, smiles at him from across the rink after he dangles a puck past Mo. 

It's not fair to Parker if Auston likes Mitch but isn't ready to be a parent. He realizes he has to make a decision, because realistically, he cant even take care of himself, yet alone a child.

So Auston doesn’t mean to keep inserting himself in Mitch and Parker’s lives while being so on the fence about his feelings, but after practice, Mitch, drenched in sweat and happily talking in a hushed tone, mentions that he’s taking Parker to the zoo today and Auston cant help but think about how he hasn’t been to a zoo in a really long time.

It’s only natural that he’s curious about a place he’s never been to, that’s also in a whole other country. 

For all he knows Canadian zoos could have, like, flying squirrels or something equally as cool. 

Then Mitch just happens to ask him if he’s busy and really, his plans to go out with Willy shouldn’t be considered being ‘busy,’ so he says he’s not and ends up in Mitch’s passenger’s seat listening to Disney’s Top Ten Hits as Parker glares through the radio console from the backseat.

“He likes Post Malone,” Mitch says, sounding not at all pleased.

For some reason Auston’s not surprised. 

“What a G,” he says through a laugh, reaching a hand back to fist bump Parker. The kid doesn’t seem to know what to do with the offered fist so he pats it slowly, watching Auston’s reaction to check if what he’s doing is right. 

It’s adorable and not technically correct, but Auston’s not going to crush the kid’s hopes of pleasing him, so he smiles and settles back in his seat as Mitch’s too-big car barrels down the highway. 

They’re only a couple minutes away from the zoo, switching lanes to exit, and Auston’s man enough to admit that he’s more excited than he probably should be. 

“You didn’t tease me about my car today,” Mitch observes, eyes still glued to the road expect for the couple of seconds he takes every minute to glance at his back mirror to check on Parker. 

Auston shrugs even though Mitchy probably wont see it. “It makes sense now,” he says, simple. 

For the first month on the team, _everyone_ chirped Mitch about his car. It’s just that it’s a giant Ford four door SUV that makes Mitchy look tiny and like he’s driving a fucking tank. He needed a damn step to get into the driver’s seat. How were they not supposed to chirp him about that? 

It’s harder to make fun of it now, though, when Auston feels like they could get hit by a bulldozer and not feel a thing. With Parker in the back, safety matters enough to him that he’ll let Mitch off the hook for driving a car that could potentially survive a nuclear blast. 

“I’m going to be such a soccer Mom,” Mitch snorts, shaking his head. 

Auston can picture it already, Marns sliding open a van door to reveal six kids, all in different sporting gear while he juggles snacks and school bags. 

“You’d be too good at it,” Auston decides, “all the Mom’s would come for you.” 

Mitchy laughs, amused, but something about his own joke settles funny with Auston. 

“Is there,” he asks, only slightly searching, “anyone that you’re seeing?” 

Mitch’s smile fades, his eyes glancing back up to the mirror. When he answers his lips are mimicking the smile from earlier but Auston can tell that there’s no real happiness behind it. “I’m busy enough,” he says, almost resigned. 

It kind of fucking burns a hole through Auston’s chest to hear that, but he’s not going to look into it, at least not now, as they’re pulling into the parking lot. 

While they get out, Parker manages to unclip himself from his carseat and climb down to the floor of the car, but the jump down to the ground is too high for him, so he just waits patiently, clipping his seatbelt back around his stuffed animal. 

“Not going to bring Linus?” Auston asks as he opens the side door to Parker. He reaches in to make the elephant stuffed animal nod it’s head towards Parker from where it’s strapped in. 

Earlier, before they picked up Park from the Marner’s house, Mitch warned him not make fun of the stuffed animal’s name. Parker, apparently, is very attached to the matted elephant, so Auston treats him gently.

Mitch is still grabbing his backpack from the trunk by the time Parker decides he wants out of the car, so Auston’s left face to face with the boy when he reaches up for him, grabby hands and all. 

Auston doesn’t mean to hesitate, but he’s never really picked up a kid before. Sure, he’s had them placed in his arms, but he never got there himself, so he just kind of pats Parker’s head and hands him his phone so that he stops making those sad eyes at Auston as he ignores the boy’s stretched out arms. 

“Dude, pick him up,” Mitch says from the trunk, some sixth sense coming through, telling him what his kid is doing. 

As he says it, Parker sits down in the space between the seats, curiously turning the cell phone he was given in his hands. Auston figures the kid’s occupied enough that he can stick his head in through the door and try to send ‘help me’ vibes towards the trunk where he can see a tuff of brown hair peaking over the seats. 

When Mitch finally straightens up and their eyes meet, he hesitates. “You okay?” Mitchy asks, drawn out and teasing. 

There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Auston tells himself. Still, his words are clipped as he admits, “I don’t know how to, you know, pick up a kid.”

Mitch eyes him for a minute, face revealing nothing. “It’s not rocket science,” he eventually says, “have you ever picked up a dog?” 

Slowly, unsure, Auston nods. 

“Just like that, then,” Mitch says sarcastically and goes back to gathering his things. 

As if understanding his Dad, Parker reaches back up for Auston, taking away the hockey player’s backup plan to flee. 

‘ _Like a dog_ ,’ he tells himself, rolling his eyes. It was probably a joke, but still, he ends up with both arms wrapped around Parker’s belly and chest, the kid awkwardly hanging in a Superman pose, his limbs swaying as he stares at the ground. 

“Jesus,” Mitch chokes when he sees them, startling back, “you weren’t kidding.” 

It’s not _that_ funny, Auston thinks as he lets a laughing Mitch take over, gathering up Parker in his arms. There’s tears in the corner of his ex-best friend’s eyes. 

When Parker is settled the right way and Auston’s face has cooled to a normal temperature, he can tell he’s being judged by both Marners, the same cocked eye brow and nearly offended stare holding him down. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” he defends. 

Mitch snorts and Parker, gleefully, tells Auston, “No.” 

“My two year old knows more than you,” Mitch chirps. It’s whatever. Parker’s smart, Auston’s not going to deny that. 

He ends up on the winning side of their stand down anyway, because Parker wants to go up on his shoulders and not his Dad’s, which he communicates by making those same grabby hands and, the second he’s settled, climbing up Mount Matthews. 

Auston’s heart nearly stops when it happens, a high pitched yelp being forced from his throat as he begs for Mitch’s help with the squirming kid who’s trying to rock climb a human. 

“You’ve got to bend down,” Mitch complains, frantic, on his tip-toes, trying to hold onto Parker as he’s determined to make it up on Auston’s shoulders by himself. 

Quickly, Auston goes down willingly, but carefully, trying to ignore the screaming strands of his hair that are being used as climbing handles. 

“You’ve got him?” he pants, nearly on his knees. “Yeah,” Mitch breathes out and settles Parker on Auston’s shoulders, gently pulling his boy’s hands from Auston’s too-long hair. As each tiny fist full gets dropped Auston relaxes, putting his hands up to hold onto Parker’s legs so that he doesn’t fall back. 

“Good, bud?” he asks upwards, straightening. Parker pats his head in what he guesses is more of an apology than a confirmation, but he’ll take it. 

Every day seems to be some kind of adventure with these two. 

As they walk in through the gates, side by side in a good imitation of a family, Mitch swings his backpack back on from having to get it checked, but pulls out a little baggy as he does. 

“Goldfish?” he offers Auston, popping some into his mouth. 

It’s been years since Auston’s even seen a Goldfish, yet alone ate one. 

“Do you even have a diet plan?” he asks Mitch, who takes another handful of the snack to shove down his throat. 

“Yeah,” Mitch smiles, Goldfish guts poking through his teeth and all, “eat, eat, and eat,” he says. 

Auston supposes that’s probably the truth given Mitch’s lean, one hundred sixty pound frame. 

Either way, he opens his mouth up for some, not willing to use his hands and risk Parker falling from his shoulders. 

Stupidly, Mitch feeds him one at a time, swimming them into Auston’s mouth like actual fish. 

“You’re a child,” Auston quips, but opens his mouth each time anyway. 

“Shar,” Parker agrees. His sound makes Mitch pause, looking up to his kid with a beaming, fond smile. 

“Shark?” he asks, all high pitched and cute, eyebrows raised as he points to Auston. 

Even from his shoulders, Auston can feel the way the kid is frantically bobbing his head in the affirmative, so the next time Mitch brings one of the goldfish closer, he goes snapping after Mitchy’s fingers, making exaggerated chopping noises as Parker squeals and Mitch, laughing, tries to act scared, evading Auston’s bite. 

Around them the zoo is quiet, leaving them feeling comfortable enough to chase one another through the paths around the park, blatantly flirting and ignoring personal space. Parker only eggs them on, determining Auston as his trusty steed to follow after his Dad. 

Eventually they want to see the animals, so Mitch pulls out a map, flipping it upside-down and every other way until he’s pointing in a direction and pulling Auston along by the hook of his arm, left in a perfect circle from holding Parker’s little shoes to keep the boy safely in place. 

It’s almost like holding hands. 

They end up at the wolves first, since those are Parker’s favorite. Zoos are generally safe, so Auston’s guard is down, but the second Park sees the enclosure he’s scrambling down from the hockey player’s wide shoulders, forcing Auston to catch and lower him the rest of the way down to the ground while also fending off a heart attack. 

As Parker toddles forward, crashing into the fence to get closer, Mitch can only send Auston an exasperated look with raised shoulders, like ‘what can you do?’ 

The years taken off his life are worth it for Parker’s excited call to them, soft but happy, and repeating, “Dah, Aus,” over and over again. 

Mitch elbows him as they go closer, “Aus, eh?” 

His cheeks heat. 

It’s nice being so openly welcomed into their little family, a shortened version of his name one of the few words Parker knows. 

They end up barely watching the wolves for more than a couple minutes, Parker getting bored a lot faster than either Auston or Mitch expected, but it’s perfect, even as they’re forced to move on to keep up with Parker’s clumsy walking as he chases after the next exhibit. 

For all that Auston justified his presence by claiming to be excited to see a Canadian zoo, he really doesn’t see much, too focused on Parker, and Mitch’s reactions to his son’s excitement. 

Auston even gets a snapchat as he’s holding the boy up, Mitch leaned in close to them to explain where Tigers live when they’re not at the zoo. He wishes he could capture how he felt at that moment, too, to match the video. 

He saves it, sends it to Mitch, and wishes he could have it as his story. 

Unsurprisingly, they don’t last long at the Tigers either, moving inside for the reptiles only minutes later. 

Nearly everyone has judged those parents who put their kids on leashes, but two hours in and Auston's starting to understand it. Every time him and Mitch so much as turn their heads Parker is at a different animal’s cage, trying to climb up the exhibit to get a better look. 

“He ran before he walked,” Mitch tells Auston seriously as he pulls Parker off the rails of the Polar Bear habitat. 

It happens three more times before Mitch gives in to permeant backache and stays slightly hunched over so that he can hold Parker’s hand in a death-girp. 

Auston finds himself taking a picture of them walking, steps ahead, hand in hand with the lighting just perfectly silhouetting their figures. He wishes he could post it. 

He’d never risk Mitch’s trust like that, though. 

Even after hours, and nearly hundreds of pictures, Auston gets his first glimpse at a temper tantrum. 

He doesn’t really even know if he should call it that, given that Parker just sees the elephants and immediately these big, fat tears coming pouring out of his eyes. 

“Oh, Baby,” Mitch coos, and Auston finds himself bending down right along with Mitch, rubbing a steady hand up and down the boy’s back as Mitch wipes away tear after tear from his boy’s cheeks.

“What’s wrong, dude?” Auston asks. 

Not that he was expecting one, but he doesn’t get an Answer; he gets something very different. 

Parker takes two steps forward and buries his head in Auston’s stomach, his little arms reaching up to try to wrap around him. 

Shocked, and in way that’s almost instinctive, Auston pulls the kid closer, his eyes glancing up carefully to gage Mitch’s reaction. He’s not mad, just worried about his son, hand still petting at the boy’s hair. 

“Is this okay?” Auston asks. Mitch looks up at him, surprised, but nods, and settles his other hand on Auston’s back to reassure him. It leaves them in a small huddle, an intimate circle as they comfort Parker. 

“You can pick him up like that,” Mitch tells Auston, and this time Auston doesn’t let himself overthink it. He just puts his arms around the kid and lifts him up and Parker does the rest, settling a little above Auston’s hip and hiding his face in his neck. 

It’s a different weight, almost precious. Again, Auston’s surprised by the trust. 

“Wanna go home, sweetheart?” Mitch asks. He’s tucked against Auston’s other side, trying to get a glance at his son’s face, but Parker’s adamant about staying hidden. With him still crying, Auston’s too worried to appreciate the press of Mitch’s body, aligned with his own. 

“Were the elephants too big?” He asks. 

He finds himself swaying side to side like he saw Mitch do the other day when he was holding Parker. 

They don’t get much of an answer, the toddler crying too hard to speak. The kid’s face is hot with tears and Auston can feel the waves of heat radiating off of him. “Is it normal that he’s so warm?” he asks Mitch. 

Mitch’s brow furrows and then full-out-parent Mitch is breaking out, gently easing Parker’s head back to press a hand against his son’s forehead. 

“Sick?” he asks Parker, but he shakes off his Dad’s hands, going back into hiding against Auston. 

Relieved, Auston finds himself looking around, trying to find whatever set the boy off. When his eyes find a baby elephant sitting, lonely, in the back of the habitat, he goes out on a limb. 

“Do you feel bad for the elephant?” he asks and immediately they get a response, Parker’s sobs redoubling. 

A sharp pain travels through Auston’s chest. 

“Oh, sweetie,” Mitch whispers, soft, “it’s okay.” 

Auston has to do something, unable to stand Parker’s quiet, shaking sobs.

“Here, take him,” he tells Mitch. The look he gets thrown boarders on hurt, but Mitch pries Parker off of him anyway, cradling and bouncing him to sooth his son’s renewed cries, now from losing Auston. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises. He has an idea, he just has to pray that the zoo keepers are Leafs fans. 

He’d normally never do this, not one to use his name to get special treatment, but it’s for Parker. It feels justified as he asks them to do anything they can to cheer up their elephants. 

Thankfully, only minutes later, he’s able to find Mitch and Parker right where he left them. 

“Park, look,” he prods, out of breath from jogging all the way back to them. 

Down in the habitat they’re breaking out a hose, the little baby elephant getting excited over the spray. The zookeepers were sure they could get the elephants to perk up with a couple of toys and by moving up their weekly baths a day early. It only cost Auston a couple pictures and the promise to get each keeper ticket hook ups for the next game. 

It’s definitely worth it, Parker’s tears slowly drying up until he’s smiling, balanced back on the rail as he watches the elephants play. 

Auston can't get over this sweet boy who’s moved to tears by seeing one lonely, unhappy elephant. He'd buy out every ticket to every game if he knew the world would fall in place at the kid’s feet. 

It's probably a dangerous thought, to want to spoil a kid so much, but Parker seems too sweet, too genuinely good, to ever turn sour under the special treatment; he is Mitch’s kid after all, so Auston doesn't know why he would expect anything but a pure, loving nature. 

“You're unreal,” Mitch tells him, later, as they're walking back, each with one of Parker’s hands clasped in their own. They swing him between them every couple steps, giving their backs time to straighten up before they're forced to hunch low again to make up for the little boy’s nearly insignificant two-foot height. 

Auston just shrugs, “least I could do,” he says, but Mitch isn't taking it. 

“No one wants to deal with kids having a breakdown, but you stayed and you found a way to make everything better.” There’s a softness in his gaze, and Auston finds the world around them disappearing like smoke, slipping out of his grasp. Everything narrows down to the color of Mitch’s eyes as they bare into him. 

It’s one of those moments, again, the kind that makes the turn of the world slow to a halt. 

“Mitch I-,” Auston starts, then stops, unable to continue as emotions build up on him. There’s so much he wants to say but he doesn’t have the words to do his feelings justice. 

“Yeah?” Mitch prods. They’ve stopped walking, Parker glancing between them as if watching a tennis match, his little head whipping back and forth from his Dad to Auston with every abandoned sentence. 

“I,” he cant do it, “I’m happy I came with you guys,” Auston finishes. He doesn’t imagine the way Mitch’s shoulders drop, as if let down. He’s sure his own disappointment in himself is showing, too. 

“Yeah, us too,” Mitch says, his smile not forced, but not fully there, either. 

By the time they’re halfway home Auston’s taken control of the music to fill in their silences, playing some of Post Malone’s cleaner tracks. In the backseat Parker’s petting Linus, his stuffed animal, a small smile on his face as his head bobs, off-beat, to the music.

As much as Mitch is pretending to be annoyed at the choice of music with his son in the car, Auston catches him hiding a grin more than once. 

It’s been a great day, so he understands; it’s hard to stop smiling, even with the stunted end to their trip. Overall, the day's left a content calm over Auston, but as they get closer to his apartment that feeling ebbs away, replaced with an almost melancholic feeling. 

“Mind if we come up, Matty?” Mitch asks, when they pull up to Auston’s building. 

Auston’s surprised enough that he flounders for a second, but Mitch doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling into his usual spot in the underground car park. 

“Yeah,” he answers, finally catching up, the giddy feeling bubbling back up in his chest. 

On the elevator up, Parker’s head is thrown over his Dad’s shoulder, his eyes closed and binky replaced by this thumb. 

They end up having to put Parker down for a nap in the middle of Auston’s bed, crowding pillows around his tiny frame to box him in. 

“We’ll be right outside the door,” Mitch promises Park, soothing back his son’s hair as the boy’s eyes fight to stay open. 

Auston’s leaned against the doorframe, watching them, something warm settling in his heart at seeing them both in his apartment, making themselves at home. Parker looks so tiny that Auston cant help but snap another picture, showing Mitch as they tip-toe out of the room. They leave the door half-open and the Tv mounted across from Auston’s bed playing cartoons at a volume almost too low to hear. 

“Everyone always told me he’d grow up so fast,” Mitch laughs, handing back Auston’s phone with the picture, shaking his head. There’s more there, something Mitch isn’t saying. “Yeah?” Auston asks, and Mitch nods, smile wistful. “He’s small, for his age, like I was.” 

“Still are,” Auston chirps, but Mitch pushes him. Conveniently enough, they’ve made their way to Auston’s couch, so he lets himself fall back with Mitchy’s push, catching the smaller’s hand as he does to pull him down with him. 

“How small is he for his age?” Auston finds himself asking, once they’ve made themselves comfortable, Mitch’s legs in Auston’s lap, his butt settled firmly against Auston’s thigh. 

“Enough that his doctors aren’t the happiest,” Mitch snorts, not freaking out like most parents would be.

“For how protective you are, you’re really relaxed about this,” Auston points out. 

Shrugging, Mitch smiles wider. “It’s a Marner thing,” he says, nonchalant, “I was always the smallest in class and then the last to lose all my baby teeth. I’m not surprised that Parker is the same so far.”

“What about talking?” Auston asks, carefully. He knows enough to know that most kids never stop babbling, opposite to Parker’s wide-eyed silence and wonder with the world around him. 

Mitch’s weaning smile is proof enough that the caution Auston took around this topic was the right way to go. 

“That’s more concerning,” he admits, “he’s supposed to have a vocabulary of around fifty words right now, but I’m lucky if I get a couple words from him a day.” 

“Like shark?” Auston asks, remembering the way Mitch lit up, praising, after Parker had said his shortened version of the word. 

Nodding, Mitch settles back against the cushions, searching the ceiling for something Auston can’t understand yet. Meaning to calm, he finds himself circling his thumb over the bone of Mitch’s ankle in soft, soothing strokes. 

It gets Mitch talking, at least. 

“I think he knows the words,” he rants, “but he’s just quiet.” 

Auston nods him on when Mitch checks to see that Auston’s following or agreeing, or just listening. 

“Like, he knows things, he’s smart, and if I really push him I can get him to speak but I think he’s just shy and likes listening and choosing the right times to speak. I don’t think there’s something, like, wrong. I think I’d know, you know?” 

“Like,” Mitch continues, and flaps his hand around the phrase, as if calling it up by magic, “Parent’s intuition?” 

Auston doesn’t know, but he trusts Mitch’s instinct, so he nods. “It makes sense,” he says. Just yesterday Parker only made one noise in front of him, not even a word, but today he talked more, backing up Mitch’s theory of shyness. When he says so to Mitch, he gets a relieved smile. 

“My Mom keeps texting me names of Speech Pathologists,” he admits. It’s said with a roll of his eyes, that same confidence back from when Mitch was explaining himself as a child, falling behind the growth curve. 

“I think you’d know better than anyone,” Auston decides, despite the worry swirling in his stomach. He wants Parker to be healthy, happy, not picked on once he gets older just because he’s shy and sweet and better than half the kids out there these days. 

“Thanks for this,” Mitch says then, giving up his study of the ceiling to bare his open, dark blue eyes into Auston’s. He blushes as Auston stares back, unyielding, then stampers as if nervous, “I can’t really talk to anyone else about this stuff.” Then he makes a face, “well, I guess I could talk to Babs, but that’d be...” he trails off and Auston finds himself making the same face Mitch did seconds ago. 

“Did you have to tell him right away?” Auston asks, on a more serious note. Mitch nods, wide eyed. “Parker is a full time job, but I definitely waited until I made the roster to let Coach know about him. He was,” Mitch searches for the right words, “very fatherly, almost.” 

Auston chokes on a laugh, but he can see it, a face probably similar to the one Babs makes when they pick on Mitch’s size a little too hard or someone takes a brutal cross check. He’s kind of like a Dad to a big, dysfunctional family of teenagers and older men. 

“Him and Lou have been great,” Mitch says, and it settles something in Auston, knowing there’s people out there in the hockey world looking out for them. 

There’s a comfortable lull after that, floodgates open for conversation but both of them understanding that they have all the time they need. 

Eventually they decide to put in a movie, Mitch picking one out as Auston orders them food. Mitch insists that Parker can eat whatever they get, but Auston still orders chicken tenders and apple slices, knowing that if Park doesn’t eat it they will anyway. 

Normally, when they settle at Auston’s, Mitch ends up curled into his side, both of their legs tangled on the couch-length ottoman that he spent a good portion of his first check on. Tonight, they settle the same way, but are interrupted as they’re just sitting down, Parker curiously wondering out into the living room, his stuffed animal being dragged behind him in one hand as his other tiny fist rubs at his eyes. It’s possibly the cutest thing Auston’s ever seen. 

They let Parker come to them, then pull him up on the couch, settling him between them with Linus tucked under the boy’s arm. He’s still sleepy from his nap, quiet even more now, as he fully wakes up. 

“Good nap?” Mitchy asks. 

Parker blinks up at his Dad, brows furrowed and grumpy, and rests his tiny head against Mitch’s side in answer. He obviously slept heavily, to still be so out of it. 

“Muy bien,” Auston chirps. 

Since being in Toronto and missing his Mom he’s found the Spanish words he’s familiar with coming more and more easily, especially around Mitch, who he knows would never give him shit for being such a Momma’s boy. 

He doesn’t expect the way Parker’s head shoots up, eyes wide at the new words. 

“Oh boy,” Mitch laughs, eyes crinkling as he looks from Auston to his son. “You’re going to have to teach him, now,” he says, and Auston finds himself thrilled at the idea, something warm settling in his chest. 

“Wait till my Mom comes up, she’s going to love this, and him,” he gushes. He didn’t think Mitch’s smile could get any bigger, but it does, daring to stretch past the limits of his cheeks. 

This is their last night before a two day road trip to play the Oilers, but after Auston knows his Dad will be flying back up, accompanied this time by his Mom, too. He can’t wait for them to meet Parker. They already love Mitch so much, they’re going to absolutely cry when they see the mini version of him. 

“Speaking of parents, I have to get this little guy to Grandma’s before eight tomorrow,” Mitch groans. Parker eyes him as he draws out each word, his little hand patting his Dad’s consolingly. Auston watches as Mitch flips his hand, engulfing his kid’s hand in one palm. 

So many times he wondered why Mitch wouldn’t drive with him to the rink for road trips. It never really bothered him, but now that he knows about Parker he can see all the little things Mitch has to do to keep his life a secret. It seems exhausting. 

“You know, we have to be at the rink by eight thirty, I could just pick you up and we could take Parker there together?” Auston swears, after this, he’s done pushing himself into their lives. 

But then Mitch smiles at him, soft and appraising, and he cant help but feel like he’s done everything right. 

They end up watching A Bug’s Life because it used to be Auston’s favorite movie and because there’s just enough adult humor in it to have him and Mitch actually following along as Parker does. Even when the food comes they don’t pause it, curling up with filled plates in their laps as Parker aimlessly chews on his apple slices. 

When he finally reaches for a chicken tender, Auston can’t help but hold back a laugh as he watches two of Parkers tiny hands try to hold onto just one tender. It looks so big compared to the one Mitch shoves down his own throat in one bite. 

As Mitch is chewing, he hands Parker a barbecue cup and the little boy huffs, carefully placing his chicken tender back down so that he can fumble with the cup, being terribly cautious as he tears back the lining to get to the sauce. 

It’s a whole process, each step given special attention and not a single crumb left out of place as Parker drips the strip and takes a tiny bite. Next to him, his father has a community pool of crumbs over his shirt and sauce dotting the corner of his lips. For a minute, Auston considers writing his cleaning service an apology letter for the state his carpeting will probably be in. 

From the corner or his eye, he can see Mitch scramble as the fry he was holding falls just in-between the cushions of the couch. The father glares down at it, shrugs, then scoops it out and eats it. 

Parker even looks vaguely grossed out by his Dad’s actions. 

“How are you his father?” Auston asks, horrified. 

Mitch gapes back, mouth opened to reveal his chewed food. He’s barely understandable as he tries to talk with a full mouth, “I’m ‘etter no’mally"

Auston sorts, cause, no, Mitch isn’t “better normally.” Parker gives his Dad a judgmental look, his tiny fist giving up his only napkin and pressing it into Mitch’s hand. 

It’s so sweet that Auston can feel his face doing something complicated as he ‘awes’ over the boy. 

“Thanks, honeybun,” Mitch coos, too. Parker’s rewarded with sloppy kisses, Mitch munching on his baby boy’s cheeks as the kid giggles, pressing further into Auston to try to squirm away from his Dad. 

Giving in to his assumed status of safety zone, Auston pulls Parker the rest of the way into his lap, setting his ignored plate on the side table. 

“T’anks,” Parker quips, and Mitch’s attacking, goofy smile goes soft, happy at another word spoken. 

With so many good emotions welling up inside of him, Auston cant help but cuddle the boy close. He even shields him when Mitch tries to sneak in a tickling hand, but Mitch wins out, catching one of Parker’s socked feet to tickle instead. 

The boy squeals, kicking gently at Mitch as loud laughs echo from his tiny body. Eventually, Auston plays the safety net again, dramatically pulling Parker to his chest to protect him from the oncoming attack. The little boy’s arms wrap tight around his neck as he does, and Auston can feel laughs being muffled by the collar of his shirt. 

“Does one, Mitch Marner, Dad of Parks, sign a treaty for peace?” Auston booms, and it gets the desired affect. Parker pulls away, eyes nearly shut from how hard he’s smiling, gap-toothed and all, to watch Auston declare the living room as a peaceful place. 

Mitch sighs, frown exaggerated as he plays sad for his son. “I promise peace if my baby comes back,” he says, lip wobbling. 

Adorably, Parker’s eyes widen and he’s suddenly squirming in haste, his little feet trampling them both as he rushes to hug his Dad. 

“No,” he says, then, “cry.” 

_No cry_.

It’s the first two consecutive words that Auston’s heard from him. 

From over the boy’s shoulder, while Mitch hugs him, he can see that Mitchy’s teary-eyed, smiling so big that his cheeks must hurt. 

“Baby,” Mitch says, when he pulls back to sooth down his sons messy hair, “go by Daddy’s backpack and get what you made Auston.” 

He helps Parker to the ground and they both watch him waddle his way to the front door, Mitch wiping his eyes and smiling weakly at Auston. 

“That’s the first time he’s done that, where he’s not just saying two separate things.” Mitch’s laugh, halfway through, chokes off like a happy sob and Auston’s chest clenches, tight. 

Overcome, he pulls Mitch in close, squeezing him hard, trying to ground them both as they fly high from happiness. 

Parker brings them back down to earth by a string, his hands pushing at their knees, a box at his feet.

“Up,” he says, when Mitch and Auston just stare at him in wonder. It makes them both crack out disbelieving laughs, looking to each other before Auston pulls Park between them, then settles the box in his lap. 

“For me?” he asks, looking to Mitch. 

He gets identical nods from both Marners, their eyes lit up the same way, sparkling as Auston tears open the packaging. 

It’s a frame, and curiously, he turns it around, not knowing what to expect. 

His breath catches, painful, as his eyes take in the present. His heart skips one, then two beats, forcing him to press a hand to his chest. 

“Mitch,” he starts, then stops, unsure what to even say. There’s three pictures in the frame. The first is of him and Parker splayed on the ground, trains in each of their hands. It’s one of the cutest pictures he’s ever seen. Just looking at it makes him remember the way Parker smiled at him whenever he’d make the “choo” sound he loved most and the adoring look on Mitch’s face when he found them. The second picture is slightly blurry, one of just him and Mitchy, from the Centennial Classic, faces pressed together and overtaken by smiles. You can tell the blurriness is from movement, the picture caught spontaneously in a moment of happiness. The last picture is the one that hurts, the biggest one, taking up five times as much room. It’s hand drawn, three wobbly stick figures and what has to be a train adorning the page. On the top and bottom there’s nearly illegible handwriting, obviously Parker’s with lots and lots of help from Mitch. 

At the top: ‘To Auston.’

On the bottom: ‘Love, the Marners,’

“This is adorable,” Auston manages, voice cracking, head shaking in awe. 

Mitch shrugs, but it’s forcefully nonchalant. “Parker drew that for you while we were doing dishes last night, after the party,” he explains, “Park forgot to give it you, left it on the couch. He was so mad he forgot.” 

Still slightly dazed, feeling too many things to take stock of all of them at once, he puts one arm around Parker and the other around Mitch, holding them tight for probably way too long. He doesn’t care. He’s happy, and light, and he doesn’t think he even knows a word that could properly explain all the things he’s feeling. 

Words could never do this justice, so Auston focuses solely on the way Parker’s arms try to fit around him and the way Mitch wraps around them both, his grip strong and not letting up. 

It’s decided then, while feeling high off nothing more than happiness, that Auston isn’t going to give this up. 

Screw waiting, thinking, planning; all of it. Auston’s going to be there for them and if they want him, he’ll stay. It doesn’t matter if he’s only twenty because Mitch is only twenty. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know how to cook, or properly wash clothes, or change a diaper, because Mitch _does_ , and as long as he’s willing to teach Auston how to help, he’ll fully give himself to them, because he doesn’t ever want this feeling to end. 

“Thank you,” he says, sturdy, when they pull apart. It’s not easy to untangle themselves or walk them down to the car park, or say goodbye, but he does all those things feeling like he’s underwater. 

That night, once he’s finally in bed, he thinks about it all, laid out in front of him. 

He’s twenty and young, maybe even reckless, and after two days he knows he’s in over his head but he doesn’t care. 

Mitch has always been different for him. He was never just another teammate, no matter how many times Auston pretended to be annoyed or exasperated by his mannerisms and now is no different. He’s just as taken by the little boy with a soft voice, loud laugh, and pure heart. 

So Auston Matthews, First Round Pick, stares down his options in the face and picks a path. 

Maybe tomorrow Mitch will notice a change in him, a readiness to show how reliable he can be, how good of a partner and parent he can be, or maybe he wont, maybe things will just steadily fall into place like there was never a question that’s where they’d end up. 

Auston’s just knows that he’s done ignoring the tension that’s been building between them, giving them chances to be more for one another than just friends and teammates. 

He’s ready, now, and he cant help thinking about all the times Mitch leaned closer as he pulled back. Maybe it means Mitch is ready too? 

Hopeful that Mitch feels the same, Auston spends the night wading through dreams of Parent-Teacher conferences and runny noses, unable to fully rest when he’s so ready to start living the life that, he feels, has been waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed the writer!
> 
> I love hearing how you guys think the fic should go or what you loved/didnt love in the chapter so let me know! 
> 
> <333


	4. Chapter 4

Auston starts his first day as being a (quote-unquote) _responsible adult_ by waking up ten minutes before his alarm, drinking his coffee black, and actually clicking on the news app that’s laid dormant on his phone for over five years. 

As far as mornings go, it’s honestly not the greatest. 

He stops feeling sorry for his taste buds and the world’s daily tragedies around the time Mitchy texts him “S.O.S.” and six vaguely concerning emojis. 

Even after he texts back a question mark and nothing else, because he isn’t a diva (like some people), he never gets a reply back. Which, in hindsight, should’ve been the only hint he needed to know that Mitch was dealing with at least a level two emergency. 

Of the six levels of emergency that Mitch dramatically created after forgetting his mouth guard at practice, two isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s bad enough that Auston, once it dawns on him that Mitch probably is having a crisis, drives a little faster and uses the key Mitch gave him to get into his apartment. 

It feels a little weird, breaking in, but in the few short months he’s known Mitch, the other rookie has shown up in Auston’s place enough times, uninvited, that it doesn’t feel so weird for Auston to repay the favor. 

He expects to walk in to flames, catastrophe, _something_ , but when he steps inside the apartment everything seems fine; peaceful, even. 

The Tv in the living room is still playing cartoons, despite the volume being off, and the kitchen counter is splayed with crayons and coffee. Auston nearly turns right back out the door to erase his presence, but then Mitch is speed walking down the hallway, Parker in his arms. 

“Thank Fuck,” he blurts out, when he sees Auston. It says at lot that he doesn’t even try to censor himself, coming at Auston like hell hound, panting and foaming at the mouth (Auston prays that’s toothpaste). 

He’s handing over Parker before he even says hello. 

“You okay?” Auston asks, wry, settling Parker against his chest. Thankfully, the little boy doesn’t seem interested with the change in scenery, accepting Auston as his new sleeping post. 

“I slept through my alarm,” Mitch explains over his shoulder, his back already turned as he jogs back to his room. Auston follows him there in a much slower gait, trying to mentally figure out how long they have before they have to be at the rink. 

In his arms, Parker squirms and Auston re-situates him, cradling the little boy in one arm. Like this, Parker seems even smaller and Auston’s surprised by the pain of regret he feels for not getting to see him take his first steps, make his first sound, or smile for the first time.

“-if you could just feed him? I already changed him and he can wear his pajamas to Grandma’s.” 

Auston pinches his own hand, frantically trying to keep up with everything Mitch has said as he was lost in the melancholic feeling that hit him right out of left field. 

“Feed him,” he repeats, and Mitch nods, shoving clothes in a bag and grabbing his game-day suit. Next to his suitcase there’s an even smaller backpack, Parker’s stuffed animal sitting on top. Auston reminds himself to check with Mitch once they leave to make sure that the stuffed animal ended up in the right bag, knowing Parker can’t sleep without Linus. 

“Just whatever’s in the kitchen,” Mitch echos from the bathroom. There’s a following clatter, ending with muted curses, and Auston backs out of the room slowly, wincing. 

They’ve got about fifteen minutes before they should hit the road, but he doesn’t really want to dirty Mitch’s kitchen too much, so he settles Parker in the highchair at the counter, among the other stools, and searches through Mitch’s cabinets. 

All the food in the apartment is for kids, but Mitch normally eats weird things, so Auston cant really tell what stuff is for Mitch and what’s for Parker. He finds dinosaur egg oatmeal, though, and figures that’s a safe bet, even though he’s definitely seen Mitch, cup in hand, filled with the oatmeal for breakfast during their drive in to the rink. 

When he proudly pulls out the packets and shows them to Parker all he gets is a sleepy frown in reply. 

Auston deflates. 

“What do you want?” he asks. It’s probably not the best faux-parenting technique, but Parker makes grabby hands at him and when Auston picks him up again, he follows where the kid points until he’s holding a sippy-cup in his hands. 

“Ju,” Parker tells him. Auston looks at him skeptically, but goes to the fridge. There’s three bottles of apple juice. The kid clearly has a problem, but he’s smiling now, eyes fixated on the sugary drink and Auston’s too weak to deny him. 

In desperation, he pours a handful of cheerios out on the highchair, too. The little o’s mostly get ignored for the sippy-cup, but when Auston stares down Park hard enough, the little boy grumpily puts one into his mouth, chewing slowly, almost exaggerated, as if shoving the fact that he refuses to eat real food in Auston’s face. 

“You,” Auston points at Parker, trying to sound threatening and accusing. His poorly hidden smile must show his amusement, though, because Parker just smiles wide at him, his head cocked to the side. 

“You’re just like your father,” Auston finishes, shaking his head. 

Mitch, once he joins them, looks moderately impressed at the Cheerios. “He fights me on breakfast, probably should’ve said that,” he admits, smiling apologetically. Auston rolls his eyes but still shoulders the child-sized backpack at Mitch’s feet and picks up Parker. 

They end up getting to the Marner’s house only a couple minutes behind schedule. It’s not their fault, really, they just both forgot that they’d have to transfer Parker’s carseat to Auston’s Range Rover. 

Saying it's hard to say goodbye to the kid is an understatement. And Parker, when they start to leave, goes achingly quiet, his big eyes watery as he hugs Auston and then his Dad one last time. 

From over Mitch’s shoulder, as he’s hugging his son, Auston watches Parker’s big eyes blink closed and when they open again a single tear falls. It’s _heartbreaking_. 

Auston has to sit down at the kitchen table, heart pounding and not able to understand how Mitch can do this every road trip. 

“He’ll be okay,” Mrs. Marner promises, rubbing a hand down Auston’s back as they watch Mitch press kiss after kiss into Parker’s hair, teary eyed himself. 

All Auston can do is nod, not believing her. 

There’s a suffocating silence that follows them to rink, both of them feeling oppressed by the sadness of leaving Parker. 

“I’m going to FaceTime him tonight,” Mitch says, once Auston’s parked the car. They got there minutes ago, but they’ve both been stuck in the heavy feeling surrounding them, freezing them to their seats. 

“If you want, you should be there,” he finishes and Auston nods, agreeing. It makes it easier to move on, gathering their things and making it to the buses. They’re only five minutes early compared to their normal fifteen. 

***

Watching Mitch with the team is like watching a flip switch on, bathing a once dark room in light. 

He hugs teammates, bounces from trainer to trainer, and even daringly bugs Babcock for a bit before he finds Auston again. It’s nice, knowing Mitch always finds a way to circle back to him and soon he’s feeling good again, happy knowing they’ll get to talk to Parker tonight.

The bus ride to the airport is as uneventful as always, but Auston finds himself in a better mood than normal, letting Mitch, opened-mouth and drooling, rest against his shoulder. 

Between him sleeping through his alarm and now, passing out on their short bus ride, Auston mutters a quick prayer that Mitch isn’t coming down with something. 

Once they’re on the plane they at least try to have fun with their teammates before they retreat to themselves. By then, though, everyone’s trying to figure out their pre-game naps anyway, so they don’t feel so bad for putting on a movie and slowly drifting into sleep. 

As usual, Auston wakes up with his arm tingling, numb, dead from Mitch’s weight as he leans over the armrest, slumped against Auston in sleep. 

It’s cold in the airplane and Auston’s still blinking away his dreams, so he cant be blamed for the way he shakes out his hand and consequently lets Mitch settle against his chest rather than his arm. 

“Dude, you guys were knocked out,” comes a voice from above them. 

Auston turns away from the sound, but a hand lifts over the seat in front of him, poking his chest, and he’s forced to open one eye. Willy is kneeling over the seats, eyebrows raised in judgement. 

“We’re tired,” Auston defends. Everyone sleeps on the plane. It’s not that weird, he tells himself, even though he knows Willy’s knowing smirk is at their tangled bodies and not actually because they slept so deeply. 

“We took, like, ten pictures,” Will tells him, nonchalant. 

Auston has half a mind to wonder if the guys drew on Mitchy’s face. He leans up enough so that he can check and is met with the sight of Mitch’s eyelashes fanned against his, thankfully, marker-less cheeks. 

Auston maybe looks a little longer than necessary. 

Willy snorts. 

“Fuck off,” he groans and by some miracle Willy does, leaving with his hands held up in innocence. 

The flight lands only minutes later, shakily enough that Mitch wakes up from that alone. Auston just gives him a half smile as he reorients himself, stretching out the kinks he’s sure to be feeling after nearly three hours hunched over the armrest. 

“We’re roomies?” Mitch asks, still half-asleep as he gathers his things. Auston nods; he talked to Brownie earlier about switching rooms, before their nap. 

Much to the amusement of some of their teammates, Mitch is sleepy enough that as they exit the plane Auston keeps a hand on the small of his back, leading him through their crew to the bus. 

It’s only around three pm and they have the rest of the night to themselves in Edmonton, but Morning Skate looms over them. Auston’s honestly hoping Mitch will just want to relax, workout, eat, watch a movie or two, and then sleep. 

For the first time in a long time, he finds out they’re not on the same wave-length. 

“I’m meeting up with Connor in a bit,” Mitch says, conversationally. They’re in the elevator now, on the way up to their room, and despite traveling higher and higher, Auston’s stomach is sinking lower. 

“Cool,” he says, trying to sound unaffected. He can see Mitch glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, trying to read him. “Tell him I say hey,” he covers. 

Mitch nods, only a little hesitant. 

Even though Auston knows Mitch and McDavid were friends, he didn’t really think they were such good friends that Mitch would give up a night off in another city just to see the guy. It’s whatever. 

Their room, at least, ends up being right next to Zach and Willy’s, so as Mitch showers and gets ready, Auston heads over there determined to ignore the way his emotions are jumping all over the place, from sadness to anger, then to annoyance, then to jealously. 

The thing is, he’s normally not a jealous guy. He was just really looking forward to doing nothing with Mitch tonight. Still, he has fun with Willy and Zach, even though they chirp him for way too long about being co-dependent. 

“Lost without him, Matts?” Zach teases. He, at least, is joking. Willy’s prodding, however, is more knowing. 

Auston lasts there for only a couple more hours. After the novelty of teasing him wears off, Zach and Will revert to their joking, flirting banter, widely ignoring him. 

For a long time Auston just watches them dance around each other, encaptured as he imagines wild-life documentary narratives written over their movements. 

_Here we see the mating ritual of two Toronto Maple Leafs, desperate after a dry slump in the scorching Atlantic division._

It’s funny until Auston finds himself wondering _is that what it’s like to be with me and Mitch?_

If it is, he owes at least ten of his teammates hand-written apologies because it’s sickeningly sweet. 

“I should head back,” he tells them, upon the revelation. Zach, at least, acts disappointed at him leaving. Willy, not so much. “See ya,” he waves, not even looking up. 

Auston just wants to go back to the room and relax as he waits for Mitch, but two steps in through the door and he’s glaringly made aware of the fact that he’s not alone. 

Mitch is laughing; that Auston categorizes first. Second, that Mitch is curled around Connor McDavid on the bed, reaching over the older’s body to try to grab at a phone he’s holding just out of reach from Mitch. 

Auston coughs. They don’t even have the decency to separate, Mitch just beaming up at him.

“Aus,” he says, all excited, and crawls over Connor and out of the bed. The way he has to straddle Connor to get up forces a uncontrollable grimace out of Auston. Still, there’s something settling about how Mitch manages to look happier at seeing him, even though seconds ago he was laughing hard enough for Auston to hear it in the doorway.

In a way that shouldn’t be surprising, but still is, Mitch grabs Auston’s hands and pulls him until he’s sitting on the bed, too. 

As far as reaction times go, Auston’s terribly lagging. 

“McDavid,” he says, trying to sound somewhat friendly and like this guy hasn’t single-handily ruined his night. 

“Yeah, hey man,” he greets. He’s a little flushed, his hair messy like someone’s been running their hands through it. 

Auston doesn’t let himself think about it. 

“ _Is that the Auston Matthews_?” 

It takes Auston too long to figure out that the voice is coming from the phone Connor’s holding. 

“Shut up, Strommer,” Mitch groans. He’s blushing, which, _Okay?_

“Dylan Strome?” Auston asks, and there’s a second groan from Mitch. It’s muffled this time, though, as he hides his face in Auston’s shoulder. Which, _Okay_. 

He’s throwing all the signs, still, even though Auston’s confused at the whole McDavid Thing he just walked into. 

For the second time today, Auston’s brain betrays him, throwing a thought at him from left field; he horrifically imagines that Parker isn’t the only thing Mitch has been hiding from him. 

“Are you guys dating?” he blurts out, brain to mouth filter failing him because of the horror of the thought. 

The room plunges quickly and awkwardly into silence. As each second goes by Auston wishes more and more that he could snatch the words back from where he can practically see them hanging in the air in front of him. 

“ _No, I hope not_ ,” finally breaks the silence, echoing from the phone McDavid is still holding. 

“Sorry, that was-“ Auston starts, but Mitch cuts him off, “No, it’s okay,” and kind of laughs, easing some of the tension. 

“Well, I should probably get going,” McDavid says, awkwardly glancing between them. 

From the phone Stromer yells “Bye Marns, love you, bye Matthews,” and McDavid promises to call him back when he’s home, then hangs up.

“See you on the ice,” Connor waves to Auston as Mitch follows him out the door, throwing a “be right back” over his shoulder to Auston. It’s a little concerning to see Mitch following the star like a lost puppy.

In the new silence of the room, misplaced anger seems to be all that Auston can focus on. He knows he’s being ridiculous, so he gets ready for bed and finds How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days playing on Tv. He absolutely doesn’t keep it on just because he know it’s one of Mitchy’s favorite movies. 

He doesn’t really watch much of it, mind too consumed as he tries to reassure himself that Mitch maybe likes him. 

There’s no denying the times they’ve almost kissed or the nights they spent away from their teammates, but seeing Mitch like that with McDavid was confusing and, honestly, kind of painful. 

Three scenes later, headed into a commercial break, Mitch gets back. He’s panting, smiling, _happy_. He jumps on the bed next to Auston, laying down as he stares up at the ceiling. Half of his body is flung over Auston’s, weighing him down.

“Did you have fun with Connor tonight?” he asks, debating on whether or not he should push Mitch off the bed. Stupidly, he decides that he likes the warmth. 

“Yeah, I missed him,” Mitch says, then after a moment, more reluctantly, “and Stromer I guess, too.” 

There’s a genuine smile on his face and he’s relaxed like Auston hasn’t seen him in a while. 

He really, really tries to be happy for Mitch.

It shouldn’t surprise him that as he’s trying to find the right words to say, Mitch decides to make himself at home, kicking off his shoes and shoving an extra pillow up by Auston’s head. He cuddles in close, ignoring the other bed and kicking down every boundary they’ve pretended to let dictate their intimacy. 

“What’re we watching?” he asks, casual, like Auston’s not holding his breath, hyperaware of every inch of his skin that’s touching Mitch. 

Thankfully he never has to answer, worried he’d be too breathless to, because the movie cuts in from it’s commercial break. 

“Oh my gosh, yes,” Mitch cheers and starts quoting the movie line for line. Auston’s forced to wrap his arm around Mitch’s head so that he can put a hand over his mouth. And playing along, Mitchy struggles, but barely, and when they both surrender Auston’s arm is left around Mitch, Mitch’s head on Auston’s chest. It’s too comfortable to move now that they’re both breathless from their struggle. 

Somehow, the play fighting makes everything feel more familiar, enough so that Auston’s relaxing fully, letting Mitch whisper every other line under his breath without consequence. 

It’s his deep, soothing tone that helps Auston drift off to sleep. 

***

“We have to be up in an hour to call Parker,” Mitch whispers. It could be seconds or minutes later, one of those moments where Auston’s been half asleep, but aware, and it’s oddly comforting to not even care; knowing Mitch will wake him up when he needs to. 

***

Irresponsibly, they end up both falling sleep, woken up by the ringtone and vibrating of Mitch’s phone that’s somehow ended up under Auston. 

It rings again, longer, louder; shaking Auston’s ass. 

“Pick it up,” Mitch grumbles, hiding from the noise in the hollow of Auston’s throat. It makes it even harder for Auston to reach the device while Mitch pins him. 

When he finally gets it, it’s showing the FaceTime call they’ve been waiting for and Auston, with his brain still sleep-logged, swipes to answer, forgetting that they’ll be seen by the camera.

Bonnie’s happy greeting cuts off fast, her smiling face turning curious. 

It doesn’t help that somehow, while they were sleeping, Auston managed to strip off his shirt. It’s Mitch’s fault, for running so hot and always pressing up right against him as they sleep. 

“Mom!” Mitch half-shouts when he notices that Auston picked up the call. His voice is frantic as he grabs the phone and hauls himself up in bed. Guiltily, even though he still has his shirt on, Mitch pulls the covers up to his chest. 

“Sorry, we we’re…” Mitch looks to Auston pleadingly, searching for excuses that make sleeping with your teammate okay and strictly platonic. Nothing comes. 

“No, no, it’s okay, boys,” she says hesitantly as they panic. Auston can see that her smile is back, softer somehow. Just cutting out of the frame, he can see the top of Parker’s wild hair. 

“Show me Parks,” Mitch says, to get away from the awkwardness. Auston doesn’t envy the conversation Mrs. Marner and Mitch will probably be having later. 

Thankfully, willing to let the subject drop for now, she lets the camera dip to the little boy. He’s sleeping, curled up in his Grandma’s lap. 

Auston’s thinking about how cute he looks when Mitch’s smile drops, asking his Mom, “What’s wrong?” 

It must be Father’s intuition, or something, because Auston searches the live stream for some sign of distress, or anything, but finds nothing. 

“Honey, I don’t want you to worry,” Mrs. Marner soothes. It has the complete opposite affect of her intentions. Even Auston flinches in concern. 

“Mom,” Mitch warns, and she sighs, giving in, “Parker’s just is coming down with a bit of a cold, I’m sure he’ll be feeling fine soon.” 

Next to him, Auston can hear Mitch’s breathing go clinically even, as if he’s forcing himself to calm down. 

“Mitchy, honey, he’ll be okay, it’s just a cold,” she repeats. Auston wraps a hand around Mitch’s, able to tell that that they’re shaking as the camera on the phone blurs.

“Is he asking for me?” Mitch asks, desperate. Auston nearly grabs the phone to cut off the conversation, knowing it’ll hurt them both. 

“Mitch, Darling,” she whispers, sympathetically, and it’s as good as an answer. 

***

Auston has to talk Mitch down from flying home once they end the call, grabbing his hands to hold him in place so he stops packing up whatever he sees. 

“You heard your Mom, he’s okay,” he tries to reason, but Mitch is all over the place, not finishing his sentences, shaking in anger- most likely at himself. 

“I should be there,” he says, final, when Auston forces him to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

It takes a lot more convincing before Mitch even agrees to think about it rationally. 

“All he’s going to know is that I’m not there for him.” As he says it, Mitch scrubs tears off of his face. 

Auston knows he doesn’t completely understand, but the feeling in his chest tells him he has some idea of what Mitch is battling through right now. 

He sits next to him on the bed, careful as he wraps an arm around him, unsure if he’s willing to be comforted. “You’ll be home tomorrow night,” Auston reminds him, “we can even ask Coach if we can get ride back to the rink separately from the team to save time from the buses.” 

That gets Mitch’s attention. He wipes his eyes again, finally looking at Auston. “That might work,” he agrees and ends up in Auston’s arms, face shielded in his shoulder. Mitchy’s chest is heaving, as if he’s still barely holding back tears, but he’s willing to stay. 

***

Time moves fast on road trips, seeming to buzz by as they jump from practice, to the hotel, to the rink again, then back to the hotel, then the airport; always a never ending day of movement. 

After the game, when time finally feels like it’s slowing down, Auston doesn’t miss the way Connor waits outside the locker room door for Mitch. He mostly notices because how can he not, when Mitch runs to the other player, practically jumping into his arms.

“Did you see my shot? The sick one at the end of the first?” he half-yells, excitedly. 

Auston doesn’t know how he still has energy after the fast-pace game they just played, but Connor seems to have some of that energy too, because when Mitch flings himself into the older’s arms he lifts him up a bit, walking them forward, closer to Auston. 

“Mitchy- that shot, _damn_ ,” he praises, laughing, setting Mitch down on the ground even though Mitch isn’t done hugging him. 

Auston’s brain at this point is a very forcefully white, blank slate, even as he’s invited back to the Oiler’s player’s lounge with Connor and Mitch as the leaf’s equipment staff get everything packed for the way home. 

They talk shop, mostly, until they get to the empty lounge and Connor asks, “how’s Parker?” all conversationally, like he isn’t dropping a fucking nuclear bomb on Auston. 

For a second he cant even fully process what he’s heard, blinking quickly as if the room will disappear and he’ll wake up from whatever fucked-up dream his mind has decided to torture him with. 

How can Connor McDavid, _fucking Connor McDavid_ , who literally just swept Mitch off his feet, know about Parker?

Auston’s too caught up in self-misery to notice that Mitch has gone quiet in the time he’s been freaking out. 

“He’s got a cold, I really want to be home,” Mitch eventually admits, his tone a complete 180 from how it was seconds ago, forcing Auston to push away his own petty problems. 

To comfort, he goes to grab for Mitch’s hand, but so does McDavid. They both pull back, looking at one another for a second before adverting their stares to the floor. 

Mitch is, thankfully, oblivious to the moment, eyes checking over his phone for any news about his son. 

There’s a text alert, but Auston sees that it’s Morgan. 

“We should head back,” Mitch says and forces a smile, as if trying to push for his normal, happy self. 

“Tell Parks I say hey and give him a thousand hugs for me, okay?” Connor says as they stand. 

Auston doesn’t know if he should give them a minute to say goodbye or what, but Mitch makes the decision for him, pulling Connor down into a hug as Auston shifts on his feet, steps away.

They talk low as they hug, whispering words over the other’s shoulders before they pull back slightly, arms still wrapped around each other. It’s an intimate goodbye and for a painful second, Auston thinks they’re going to kiss. 

“We’ll win next time,” Mitch promises, louder, when they finally pull apart. 

Connor is nice enough to walk them all the way back to the away team’s locker room and hug Mitch again before he leaves. 

“Connor seems cool,” Auston says on the bus, through gritted teeth. 

Mitch actually laughs at him, patting his thigh. “He wanted me to tell you something, but he wanted me to wait till we were alone.” 

Auston looks around them, their teammates lost in their own worlds, headphones in and phones on. 

“Alone enough,” he shrugs, too anxious to hear what Mitch is going to say. He mentally prepares himself for hearing that they’re dating. 

“Connor and Dylan are together,” Mitch says, easy, like Auston didn’t spend a whole day second-guessing everything. 

At the news, his is stomach flies to his throat at breakneck speed, choking him on his own saliva. “What?” he gasps, between coughing fits. 

Smug, Mitch hands him a water bottle from his bag, still laughing at him but also patting his back gently. 

“Yeah, since like, forever,” he explains, still checking on Auston. 

It would’ve been nice to know that a days ago, before Auston fell into a hole of angst, but it’s worth it for the euphoria of the moment. 

“That’s great,” he says honestly, when his throat doesn’t feel like there’s a blade through it and Mitch’s water bottle is nearing empty. 

Mitch doesn’t even pretend to be oblivious. He just keeps laughing at Auston, somehow keyed in to his relief. 

There’s only question left swimming in Auston’s head, “How does he know about Parker?” 

Mitch’s smile somehow grows, “I got my girlfriend pregnant in Juniors,” he admits, not at all shy. “I was a bit of a mess for a while and Stromer hated me at that time, but he was really there for me. He just kept saying I needed to stay in hockey so that he’d have some actual competition.” 

Auston finds himself smiling, too. “And Connor?” he asks, no longer feeling a sick swirl in his stomach as he says the name. 

Mitch shrugs, amused, “Connor and Dylan were a package deal. As soon as Stromer liked me, Connor was able to stop pretending like he didn't.” 

It’s cool, Auston thinks, that they’re still so close. He never regrets playing in Switzerland, but there’s times he yearns for the bonds he’s seen other players have with long-time rivals. 

“Can I ask,” Auston starts, and considers how to phrase his question, “-how everything with Parker happened?” 

Mitch nods, always so open, “of course.” 

“I was a kid, stupid, young, reckless; all of the above. And my girlfriend got pregnant and she wasn’t ready to be a parent.” Mitch shrugs, like anything as life-changing as kids and deciding your future could ever be that easy.

“But you were ready?” Auston asks, and Mitch shakes his head ‘no’ right away, no hesitation. 

“I was so lost,” he laughs, “but she was planning to put him up for adoption and that idea lasted about a month before she told me that she knew I’d be a good Dad.” 

“She was right,” Auston says, amazed, and Mitch’s smile goes soft, the street lights passing overhead casting his grey eyes in odd hues of color. 

He’s beautiful and nothing in that moment matters more than the way he’s looking at Auston; eyes open and wanting as he lays his life down for him to see. 

Nothing spontaneous makes him pull Mitch in, only the sureness of affection and love in the moment makes their lips meet for a split second. 

There’s no frantic rush, no jealousy, no clumsy clash of teeth; just a fleeting press of closed lips before Auston lets him go, his eyes searching Mitch’s for an answer to a question he hasn’t had the guts to ask yet. 

He doesn’t even move away, their noses brushing, only far enough apart to take in Mitch’s face. He’s holding his breath as he waits for a reaction. 

“Are you sure?” Mitch asks, proving the uselessness of words between them when they’re reading each other’s intentions through the light in the other’s eyes.

Auston’s never felt more sure of anything in his life. “Yes,” he says, then again, “yes,” because he cant believe this is something he gets to have. 

Mitch pulls him in this time, their teeth clashing only because they cant stop smiling. 

“We have to take this slow,” he says, warningly, when they finally pull apart. Auston feels like a bobble head, smile manic as he nods his agreement. 

“I understand how important this is,” he promises and Mitch’s matching, wild smile gets held down into something much more gentle. 

“Thank you,” he says, and Auston can’t help but pull him into his arms, squeezing him tight until Mitch is trying to stifle his laughter as he playfully fights for air. 

Auston won’t be letting go anytime soon. 

***

Even with all the excitement that happened on the bus, getting to the airport puts them back into a familiar routine, grabbing bags and claiming seats. Still, there’s a undeniable happiness surrounding them, following them everywhere they go. 

“You two are disgustingly happy,” Willy tells them, skeptically. “We just lost.” 

Auston shrugs, easy, unworried, his arm over Mitch’s shoulder. 

“We’ll get ‘em next time,” he says, uncommitted. He gets an eye roll for his trouble, but Will does leave them alone to bask a little longer in their happiness.

***

Taking things slow means that Auston kisses Mitch goodnight at the door after they’ve tucked Parker into bed. The boy was more than happy to see them, but was definitely under the weather, his nose running and a small cough shaking his frame every couple minutes. 

He was so good for them, too, settling in bed with Linus and quickly falling asleep with the help of some children’s cold medicine. After all the worrying over him, it’s good to see him content, barely suffering from the bug he’s picked up. 

It’s been a long day, a lot of travel and stress and general craziness, so Auston’s honestly not that adverse to the idea of his own bed, even though he knows he’d sleep better with Mitch next to him. 

It’s probably even good that he gets the night to himself to process all that’s happened in last few short hours, but that never really happens, the day leaving him too exhausted to do much besides fall asleep with a smile still imprinted on his face. 

***

When Auston wakes up, he stares at the ceiling for nearly a half hour, trying to separate his dreams from reality. It’s blissfully difficult. 

Between the feel of Mitch’s lips, soft and wet against his, and having his boyfriend- _boyfriend_ \- under his arm for the flight home last night, Auston can barely pick a thought to focus on. 

Under the covers his feet kick, jittery, and Auston muffles a yell into his pillow, trying to find someway to calm the frantic fluttering of his heart and brain.

After the full thirty minutes of wondering, he finally lets himself believe that everything that happened on the way home really, actually, happened.

He sings in the shower, dances as he makes coffee, and greets the security guard in the lobby of his building with an offered cup of extra caffeine. 

As stupid and cliché as it sounds, it’s like being in a whole new world. The sun seems brighter, the sidewalk cleaner, and traffic is just a chance for him to happily zone out, reliving each baited breath as he kissed Mitch and Mitch kissed him. 

At the rink he even waits in Mitch’s stall, ignoring the weird looks and comments he gets from his teammates. 

Willy, most of all, wont quit. 

“You’re all,” he had made a vague hand gesture at Auston’s face, “smily.” 

And Auston had smiled in answer, unable to help himself. 

But, now, as each passing minute gets closer to their practice time, his smile slips more and more until he’s forced to abandon his post, getting ready without seeing Mitch. 

He could be anywhere, getting work from the trainers or cutting his sticks, but by the time they’re on the ice Auston cant deny that Mitch isn’t showing up today. 

“Coach?” he asks, during a water break, still unsure if what he’s about to do is overreaching. 

There’s a similar feeling evading his chest that’s throwing him back to high school, when he’d have to ask a teacher for an extension on a project because of hockey.

“What’s up?” Babcock asks, casual, as if sensing Auston’s anxiety.

Auston ignores the feelings, takes a breath and goes for it, “Do you- I mean you must know- but could you tell me where Mitch is?” 

Coach looks him over then pulls him aside, just far enough so that the guys don’t hear, but close enough so that they don’t get curious. “He told you about Parker,” he says, knowing, and Auston nods, not quite understanding where this is going. 

“Mitchy has the flu and so does Parker. He said it came on pretty bad this morning for him and the little guy’s still sick, too, so he’s going to be out for a while.” 

Auston can feel his heart sit heavier in his chest. “Oh,” he says, not sure where the conversation is left to go. 

Babcock eyes him, calculating. “I was happy to hear he finally told someone on the team. He needs someone for moments like these,” Coach says, watching him in that way that normally means he’s trying to get a point across without actually saying what he really means. 

“So I should go over there?” Auston asks, only slightly hesitant. 

Coach nods, once, then twice, slowly, as if it’s obvious. 

“Like right now?” Auston asks, figuring he cant really dig himself much deeper. Babcock sighs, looking off towards the practice rink’s upstairs offices as if praying for an assistant coach that would purely do his dirty work. 

“After this drill, you shouldn't stay late to do your after practice routine,” he clarifies. 

Later, when Auston’s leaving, Coach yells to him and he jogs back. 

“You know what cold medicine kids can take, right?” he asks, skeptically. 

Auston grimaces and Babcock sighs again. “I’ll send you a link; buy fluids, buy a heating pad, buy ice packs, buy everything,” Coach tells him, pushing him gently back towards the carpark.

As Auston’s reaching the door, Babcock yells again, “If Mitchy isn’t alive by the end of the day, it’s on you,” only half-teasing. 

Auston gulps, drops his keys, knocks his head on a counter as he’s standing back up, and finally, resolved, puts on his game face. 

Mitch will see how caring, how responsible, how parental he can be if he does this right. 

With one, deep, resettling breath in, he heads out. 

_He’s got this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments literally feed the writer, I love hearing what you all think of the fic and where you'd like to see it go so let me know! <33
> 
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> Twitter: elizaday_dani  
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> I don't really do much besides retweet/reblog but any promts or questions I'd take there too and I'm also going to start a MeetTheMarners tag soon on my tumblr for all the gifs and stuff that could apply to this fic :)


	5. Chapter 5

So maybe Auston goes a little overboard at the drugstore. 

He’s still at that point is his rookie year where his paychecks surprise him, so when he hears the total at the check out a part of him dies as he hands over his card. 

It all seems worth it, though, up until he’s lugging the ten bags and two hundred dollars worth of merchandise all the way up to Mitchy’s apartment. 

“Anyone home?” he calls when he steps inside, dropping the bags that are cutting into his wrist. He doesn’t really expect a response, but he figures it’s polite to announce himself anyway. 

The place feels eerily silent, toys abandoned and the coffee pot dropped carelessly in the kitchen sink, like Mitch didn’t have time to even set things down before everything went south for them. 

From the back room there’s a clatter, followed by Mitch’s voice carrying through the apartment, and a second later Parker is waddling out of the hallway. He doesn’t even look up to see Auston. Instead, he heads right for the couch, climbing up and laying down at the edge. 

It’s a little concerning that Auston’s gone so long unnoticed in their place and he’s starting to feel like he really needs to talk to these two about, like, security and stranger danger. 

But then, as he’s stepping closer, he sees that tears are streaming down Parker’s face and any thought of lecturing goes out the window. 

“Park, hey buddy,” he soothes, coming around the couch to kneel in front of the boy. Parker doesn’t even question his presence, pushing himself forward to fall into Auston’s arms. 

The weight of the boy is sold and too warm, his face clammy and eyes fevered, and Auston cradles him, taking them back to Mitch’s room even as Parker pulls on his shirt, trying to stop him. 

“Mitchy?” he calls, expecting the worse; expecting a sea of sick. He finds him sitting next to the toilet, his head resting on the lip of the tub behind him. The room smells rancid. 

“You’re alive,” he teases and Mitch doesn’t react much to him, either, blinking at them like he’s not quite sure they’re actually there. 

Auston’s starting to understand why Parker was apparently forced to stay in the living room. Mitch doesn’t look so good. 

“Don’t let him see this,” he slurs when his eyes seem to finally make sense of what’s in front of him. He even tries to wave them back, as if expecting the motion is all it takes to dispel his dislikes. 

Either way, Auston cant help but agree with Mitch’s thought process, cradling Parker’s head against his shoulder so that he doesn’t look at his Dad. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises Mitch.

Getting Parker situated in the living room isn’t easy and Auston learns quickly that sweet, innocent, loving, perfect Parker is not the same angel while sick. He’s down right grumpy and petulant, clinging to Auston like a life line. And as much as Auston understands that the boy needs his comfort, he also has to make sure Mitch isn’t, like, dying on them. He’s sure Parker will appreciate the sentiment someday. 

So Auston’s forced to endure sad eyes watching him as he tucks a blanket around Parker’s tiny frame and settles Linus under his arm. 

“No,” Parker says, even thought they talked about this, reaching for Auston when he turns to leave. 

Despite his resolve, it makes Auston’s breath catch painfully, and he finds himself leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the boy’s burning forehead. He deals with this the only way he knows how, gentle as he makes promise after promise yet again. 

“I need to get your Daddy back in bed, I’ll be just down the hall and I’ll come back as soon as I can.” 

Parker’s hand, which had wrapped around the bottom of his shirt to keep him from leaving, slowly releases him. 

Auston’s breath leaves him in sigh. “Thank you, Park, I’ll be right back.” 

Mitch is in no better state when he gets to him, now splayed out on the ground with a towel over his shaking shoulders. 

“Fuck,” Auston curses. He’s only a little overwhelmed. He can still do this. 

He mentally makes a game plan as he hovers, hands unsure as he tries to wake Mitch. 

Around the second shake of his shoulder, Auston starts considering texting Babs. It seems like a bit of a death sentence, though, so he abandons his phone, trying a little harder to wake Mitch gently. 

The bathroom is nearly one hundred degrees, suffocating him, and even if it wasn’t Auston is still sure he’d feel like he’s burning out of his mind. 

Mentally, his check list of things to do grows as he watches Mitch laze onto his back, his melting eyes dragging over the ceiling in confusion as he wakes. 

“Parker?” he croaks out, and his hand searches blindly next to him. It gives Auston a pretty good idea of what their morning looked like, both of them camped out in the bathroom between episodes of throwing up and fevered sleeping. 

“Mitchy, I’m here,” Auston reminds. He finds a way to maneuver himself behind Mitch, pulling him up so that he’s sitting now. It’s progress, kind of. 

“Where’s Park?” Mitch asks, looking around, concern growing. Auston has to hold him down as he tries to fight away from his hold. 

“He’s okay, he’s fine,” he promises. 

Mitch’s skin is burning against his, even hotter than Parker’s had been. 

“We’re going to get you in bed and then get you some medicine,” he decides. It doesn’t take much to pull Mitch up and heft him into his arms, carrying him the rest of the way to his bed. 

The second cool sheets touch his skin he sighs, eyes slipping closed in relief, and Auston mentally pats himself on the back. He even thinks to grab the trash can from the bathroom and place it perfectly in Mitch’s line of sight, on the nightstand. 

“I’ll come back with medicine,” he says, but Mitch is already asleep, mouth gaping open as he snores in huffs. 

Auston can’t deny the fondness pulling at his stomach as he watches over him.

*** 

It’s a little overwhelming, having to jump between Parker and Mitch, but it gets easier after Mitch gets some medicine and starts thinking a little clearer, able to tell Auston to stay with Parker. 

“Daddy?” Parker asks, the next time Auston comes back from checking on him. 

“Sleeping, no fever,” Auston promises and makes himself comfortable on the couch, admittedly a little exhausted. He still opens his arm for Parker to crawl under. 

They’ve been watching Thomas and Friends nonstop, learning more about trains and friendship, and even with his favorite show playing, Parker is miserable, quiet, and sniffling.

He’s picked up the bad habit of clearing his nose off with the edge of his sleeve and every couple minutes Auston’s forced to battle him with tissues. 

Now is no different. 

"Blow,” he commands, and Parker eyes him, annoyed, trying to overlook the Kleenex to see the tv. 

Mid-fight, Mitch zombie-walks out from the hallway, falling face first into the couch next to them. 

Auston watches him for a minute, cornered, but Parker’s started to wipe his nose with the back of his hand so Auston’s forced to deal with that first, wiping off the boy’s hand and putting the tissues back up to Parker’s nose. He still keeps fighting Auston, his little face scrunched in annoyance, anger, and fever as he tries to squirm away. 

“Parker,” Auston warns, and the little boy glares at him but stops kicking at his stomach. 

A raised eyebrow is all it takes to break the boy’s tantrum, Parker rolling his eyes but blowing out of his nose anyway. 

And Auston, satisfied, having won, settles Parker back against his chest, letting him watch his show. He doesn’t miss the way the boy’s fingers circle around his pointer finger in apology. 

“How’re you doing?” he asks towards Mitch’s splayed form, then. 

Mitch just groans in response, his face still buried in the pillows. 

“I think I should go to the Doctor,” he says and Auston finds himself nodding. 

“You’ve done so much for us today but could you just watch Parker-”

Auston cuts him off, “of course,” even though anxiety is spiking through his stomach at the idea of watching over him without Mitch to fall back on. 

“I’ll go get ready,” Mitchy says, but then doesn’t move. He ends up sleeping there for another hour and Auston lets him, knowing he needs the rest. 

There’s a calm over the room now, both Mitch and Parker settled and feeling better under the lure of sleep, and it feels terribly domestic. Auston can perfectly picture days like this in the future, them all curled up in the living room and watching movies or playing games. 

It’s not till after Parker’s fallen deeply asleep, too, that he carefully gets up and shakes Mitch awake, pressing a hand to his forehead as he blinks away sleep. 

“Any better?” Auston asks. 

Sleepily, Mitch leans into his touch, his hand grabbing Auston’s other hand. “You’re the best,” he croaks, smile only bordering on delirious. 

It’s enough to have Auston relaxing, breathing a little easier as he realizes he’s doing alright. 

Breaking the moment, across the room his phone sounds, an alarm set for the next time he can give Parker more medicine. Knowing the meaning of the sound, Mitch drops his hand willingly, letting him go. 

Between the ten different children’s flu liquid brands that Auston bought, he’s using the one a knowing Mom at the store had handed to him. She said it was the best, and the brand was on Babcock’s list too, and it’s at least been keeping Parker happy for now. 

When he comes back, carefully balancing one dose of the gross, green liquid, Mitch is panicked, holding Parker to his chest and bouncing the boy even though he probably shouldn’t even be standing with the way he’s been getting dizzy today. 

Parker is sobbing, though, his cries growing louder and louder until he’s absolutely wailing, choking on air and face burning red. It’s the loudest sound Auston’s ever heard and it’s even more frightening coming from Parker, who’s always so soft spoken, even though he’s been grumpy with sickness today. 

Absolutely stunned, Auston cant do anything but stand motionless until Mitch stumbles, then sits down to keep from falling. That snaps him into motion, setting everything he’s holding down and carefully helping Mitch lay back on the couch. 

The second he’s settled, Auston pulls Parker from his arms, surprised by just how hot the boy is running now. This isn’t looking good and Mitch’s chest is heaving. Auston cant even tell if it’s from anxiety or sickness, but he gets the answer soon enough, Mitch rolling forward to dash to the kitchen. 

He makes it all the way to the sink and Parker, hearing his Dad’s coughing hacks, somehow cries harder, his little fists pounding on Auston’s chest. 

“Sh, baby, sh,” he tries, over and over again, but there’s no reprieve and Mitch isn’t even responding to his frantic calls anymore. 

When he turns the corner to the kitchen he finds him laid down, passed out from the exhaustion of puking once again. 

It’s a wake up call, making Auston realize that he cant do this on his own, jumping between Mitch and Parker with his time divided when they both need him so much. 

***

Willy comes to the door just as Auston’s finally getting a handle on Parker’s sobs. 

All he texted was S.O.S. and an address, so he’s not surprised as Willy backs up from the door when he answers. 

“Sorry wrong apart-” he starts, but then his eyes drift from Parker to Auston, his head tilting curiously. 

“Matts?” he asks, mouth practically hanging open. 

Auston’s moves without his brain. “Mitch has a kid, I like Mitch, and I need him to see that I can do this but I can’t do this.” He’s panting by the end of the sentence, trying to keep bouncing Parker in his arms because it seems to be slowly rocking him to sleep after being tired out from nearly an hour of sobbing. 

“What can I do?” Willy asks, and he’s got the same determined face on that Auston’s seen when they’re down one goal in the third. It makes his shoulders drift out, his breathing come a little easier, and his head stop spinning. 

“Mitch should go to Urgent Care,” he decides. It makes Willy’s eyes widen, but he’s pushing past Auston a second later, orienting himself to Mitch’s place as he searches out their teammate. 

“Behind the kitchen island,” Auston calls and he lets Willy take care of it as he brings Parker back to the couch, leaving him without blankets or his stuffed animal to help cool him down. 

When he gets back to the kitchen, Willy is dragging Mitch up to his feet and Auston’s quick to jump in too, taking his other side so that they can walk him to the table to sit. 

“You called Will,” Mitch says, but Auston cant tell if he’s angry, or disappointed, or scared. He’s just monotone, stating a fact.

“You passed out on me, Mitchy, and Parker was crying so hard he couldn’t breathe,” he defends. He hopes it doesn’t sound like excuses. 

Mitch grabs his hand. “You’re doing so good, Aus,” he promises and it works like a cure, Auston’s faith in himself slowly rebuilding. 

Sometimes the hardest, but most mature thing to do is ask for help. 

Even out of it with fever, Mitch kisses the back of his hand, eyes soft as they take Auston in. 

It’s hard to watch them leave, Willy still half-carrying Mitch, and Mitch’s arm around his shoulder, and there’s a whole other list of problems there, probably a conversation they’ll have to all have once Mitch is feeling better.  
***

By the time Auston makes it back to Parker the boy is deeply sleeping, absolutely exhausted from the day he’s had. 

It gives Auston a chance to unwind, to finally breathe. He unpacks all the bags he brought, cleans up the house, and bleaches the sink before he hears Parker let out a little sound of pain in sleep. 

He gets a front row seat to the boy waking, already in tears, and it forces Auston to remember that Parker never got his second dose of medicine because of everything that happened. 

“It’s okay Park” he soothes, and Parker is grabbing for him before he’s even within reaching distance. 

Giving him the foul-smelling green liquid isn’t easy, but he eventually chokes it down, crying out heartbreaking sobs between forced sips of water. 

Water is only good for so long, though, Parker turning his head at each offered sip after he’s grown sick of it. 

Auston has half a solution to help calm him down, and guiltily, he fills up a sippy-cup with apple juice. 

Parker honest to God claps his hands excitedly when he sees the treat, as if applauding Auston for being a push over. The tantrum, at least, seems safely at bay. 

All is good and well, Auston filled with pride over his quick-fix, until the apple juice gets dropped, Parker looking to Auston with wide eyes and green-tinted face. 

_Shit_. He knows that look. 

Auston is barely standing, trying to rush Parker to the nearest non-ruinable surface, when the little boy drenches him, his stomach’s contents rushing over Auston’s chest and dripping to the floor. 

He can feel a disgusted shudder run down his spine but he’s forced to stay still and endure the onslaught, holding Parker at arm’s length. He’s horrified enough, but then he sees the red-tinge to the puke covering his shirt. 

Frantic, his mind jumps from possibility to possibility, trying to convince himself that everything’s fine.

In a way that kills him, he looks to Parker for answers, but the little boy has none, his lip wobbling and Auston with no way to comfort him while drenched in throw up. 

It helps him realize that he’s the adult in this situation and has a decision to make. So he focuses on one problem at a time, compartmentalizing.

For a moment he just stands there, frozen, unsure what to even do as he tries to think up ideas. 

He can barely move without ruining Mitch’s apartment, but he cant stand there for much longer, especially as water-works start once again flowing from Parker’s eyes. 

“Okay,” he says, and Parker watches him with baited breath. “Okay, we’re okay, we’re good.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince. 

Getting them to the bathroom is a nightmare and blandly, Auston prays that Mitch has a mop. 

Even once he’s there he’ still at a loss, dangling Parker away from his ruined clothes. He doesn’t know where to set the boy, but eventually he sits him in the sink, knowing he cant fall from the counter while cradled by the curve of the marble. 

“Stay there,” he says, and Parker nods, his little arms wrapped around himself for comfort. It kills Auston, but each step he takes towards getting cleaned up is a step closer to being able to hold Parker close again to sooth the boy. 

“Can you sit down by the tub for a minute?” Auston asks the second his drenched shirt is in a garbage bag. Parker nods again, shy now, understanding that something’s wrong with the situation around him. It makes him terribly obedient, waiting patiently and playing games on Auston’s phone as he showers and finds something of Mitch’s that wont be too ruined by his wide shoulders. 

After he’s clean again it’s much easier to deal with everything in front of him. 

He helps Parker into new clothes and balances the boy on the counter while helping him brush his teeth. 

“Don't swallow that,” Auston scolds, when Parker starts eating at his tooth paste. For a second he doesn’t even recognize his own voice. 

He’s just- he’s heard that tone before from his own parents and others and Mitch, and he didn’t even know he could make his voice sound like that- so calm, yet in charge, and able.

Even Parker picks up on it, his face turning into a pout as he gives up his tooth brush to Auston’s expectant palm. 

He even lets Auston cup water into his mouth to wash out the rest of the paste.

Amazingly, Auston feels like a parent and it helps him move on to their next problem, ready to tackle whatever’s thrown at him now that he’s got _the voice_. 

All that’s left to solve is the red-tinged throw up that’s been wrecking havoc on his mind. 

Stupidly, he googles for ten minutes, terrifies himself, and then decides he maybe doesn’t have all the answers just because he was able to use a “Dad-voice,” so he calls his Mom, maybe freaking out a little. 

“Papi,” she greets, and Auston can feel himself sinking into her tone, letting himself bask in the comfort of his Mom’s voice. 

“Mom,” he croaks, and that’s all he can get out, tears welling up in his eyes as he thinks of Mitch, Willy, Parker, and everything that’s happened today. 

Startled, Parker’s tiny hands pat at his cheeks, the boy’s eyes wide and worried.

“I’m good, baby,” he promises, and over the line he can hear the confused noise his mom makes. 

Parker seems to feed off his emotion and the boy is able to stay quiet for a minute, but then his breath catches in a way that means he’s about to start crying. And sure enough, a hiccuping sob breaks through and Auston’s forced to sooth him, even with his mom listening. 

“What do you do if a kid’s puke is tinged red?” he asks, desperate, down the line. His Mom, God bless her, doesn’t even ask about the child’s sobs she can surely hear. 

“Auston, there’s a lot of reasons that can happen. Foods do that sometimes. Now, I don’t want you to worry, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry. Just take the kid in and stay calm. Everything is most likely fine.” 

Auston holds on to each and every word, nodding along and forcing his breathing to even out. 

“You’re okay, sweetie, just deal with everything one step at a time,” she coaches. 

He’s getting choked up again. “Thank you, Mom,” he gets out. 

He can hear her tutting at him, soft and gentle, like she would when he was a kid, when he’d sneak dessert before dinner or lose his favorite toy. 

“Call me, Papi, when you can,” she says. It’s loaded and Auston knows he’s already tested his relationship with Mitch by telling Willy, but he lets himself have this. 

“I will. I love you.” And he hangs up, gathers Parker’s things and a blanket to wrap him in, and makes his way down to Mitch’s car. 

***

Children’s hospital is surprising calm for flu season, Auston only one of three other parents waiting in the waiting room. Parker, shy now that others are around, is hiding his teary eyes in Auston’s chest, being terribly well behaved. 

When he’s better, Auston vows to take him for ice cream, or really anything the kid wants, for dealing with this all so well, considering. 

“Matthews?” A nurse calls, and Auston nearly jumps to his feet, gathering their things and following her back to a room. 

As he walks down the halls he cant help but hold Parker a little firmer, eying anyone that gets too close to them even though the boy is already sick. 

Getting into their own private examination room doesn’t settle his nerves like he expects it to. 

The nurse isn’t helping much, either, taking glances at Auston that are far from complimentary. 

“Your paper work was a little blank,” she says skeptically, flipping through the notes on her clipboard. 

Out of his depth, Auston shrugs, feeling slightly put-off, “I’m his Dad’s boyfriend, I don’t know their medical history or insurance information.” 

As she eyes them, Auston holding onto Parker for dear life and nearly shaking with worry, her calculating look softens and she nods, setting aside the paperwork to grab for a thermometer. 

When she tries to get near Parker, though, he turns further into Auston’s chest, making a panicked noise from deep in his tummy. 

“Sorry,” Auston apologies, fumbling to grab Linus. He sneaks it in-between him and Parker so that the little boy is grabbing the stuffed animal and not him. It makes it easier to turn him around, sitting him in his lap with firm hands so that he cant squirm away from the nurse. 

“Is there something that normally calms him down?” she asks when her next advance leaves Parker silently crying, trying his best to bury himself under Auston’s shirt. 

Auston’s about to say he doesn’t know because he’s in way over his head at this point, but he finds himself nodding instead, digging out his phone. 

“Do you mind?” he asks, pointing to the exam table, and she waves him forward. 

He places Parker down, but still holds the little boy’s hand so that he’s not scared Auston’s going to leave him. 

“Parks,” he calls, and then the theme song from Thomas and Friends is playing softly. 

It’s not enough to cheer up the boy, but Auston remembers how Parker settled earlier today when the song had gotten stuck in his head and he found himself humming it as he took care of Parks. 

So Auston decides to go all-out now, singing along, sending awkward glances at the nurse as he does exaggerated hand gestures to match each phrase. It’s easier to focus on Parker, drowning out the nurse to watch his boy’s wobbling lips stretch into a smile. 

“ _There’s two, there’s four, there’s six, there’s eight_ ,” and as each finger of his goes down with the number Parker’s tears dry, his body relaxing against the scratchy hospital sheets even as the nurse comes closer, flying through the motions of the exam. 

“… _down the hills and round the bends_ ,” Auston swoops his hands forward through the air, poking Parker’s tummy, “ _Thomas and his friends._ ” 

For the first time today, Parker giggles and something in Auston’s chest gives. It makes the next lines come easier, his own smile growing as Parker’s does. 

“ _Thomas he's the cheeky one_ ,” and Auston pinches at Parker’s cheeks, then tickles under his chin. 

“ _James is vain but lots of fun,_.” He exaggerates a frown.

“ _Percy pulls the mail on time_ ,” he sings off-key and mimes throwing a mail bag over his shoulder.

“ _Gordon thunders down the line_ ,” and he makes his arms act like the animated train’s, chugging down the railway.

He has half a thought of what his teammates would think if they saw him doing this, before Parker’s little arms copy the same running motion and Auston finds he wouldn’t care what they thought, as long as he knew he’d get to see Parker’s goofy, toothless grin.

By the time the song’s over the nurse is just writing notes, motioning Auston forward so that he knows he can hold Parker again.

Having him back in his arms takes away whatever remaining anxiety was taking root in his heart. 

***

Hours later, hearing that Parker is fine sends Auston to tears, hugging the boy close and trying to get a grip of himself.

“We’re going to send you home with some meds for his fever and he should take it with food and lots and lots of water,” the nurse says. And then they get the grand send-off, every nurse who so much as saw Parker gushing over him as he waddles up to each of them, shyness gone as he hugs their legs and says, “t’ank you,” at Auston’s insistence.

It’s proof that he’s feeling better and it makes Auston take his time on the drive home, playing the Thomas and Friends song and watching Parker smile sleepily at the music.

***

Coming back to Mitch’s is like coming home to a warm bed. Auston instantly feels settled.

He tries to get Parker in bed, but the boy pouts about it’s enough that Auston gives in, letting him curl up in the armchair in the living room. He’s happy as long as he can see Auston and there’s cartoons on the tv.

Thomas the train is just telling them the meaning of friendship when Parker officially nods off and Auston lowers the volume, getting up to search out Mitch’s cleaning supplies.

He bleaches everything he didn’t have time to before, forced to have the apartment’s windows cracked so the place airs out.

By the time he’s finished he’s dizzy with the chemicals, but content at a job well done.

He survived, Mitch survived, and Parker survived, and Auston cant help but feel like everything in comparison will feel like easy sailing.

He’s still a little worried about Mitch, but Willy has been updating him every hour, texts explaining that they’ll be back soon and that they just had to wait for Mitch to get meds and a saline drip because he was too dehydrated. Auston should’ve known, but he tried his best to keep Mitch drinking water, and there’s no use dwelling on something he cant fix now.

It’s so easy after the day he’s had to drift off to sleep even while still sitting up, Parker curled up now on the opposite end of the couch, his warmth a comforting presence over Auston’s feet. 

***

He blinks awake to the smell of pancakes, Willy’s laugh terribly loud for so early in the morning.

“Not the hair!” he hears, frantic, and then there’s a clatter that has him sitting up, forcing himself awake to make sure Parker isn’t being too influenced by his line-mate.

He follows their voices to the kitchen only to see Parker sitting dangerously close to the edge of the counter.

“Willy, _dude_ ,” Auston says, judgmental, gathering Parker into the safety of his arms. He seems generally unharmed besides for some flour smeared on his tiny cheeks, so Auston lets it go, breathing deeply to calm himself.

“He promised he wouldn’t move,” Willy defends, flippant, a spatula waving carelessly in his hands.

Auston nearly shoves him, but he doesn’t want Parker to pick up on the habit of pushing stupid people, even if they deserve it.

Willy loves to test him, though.

“You’re like glowing,” he says, “like that kid glow people get.”

"Like pregnant people?” Auston asks, wry, and Willy nods, “yeah, like that!” And he’s not even being sarcastic or purposely dense and Auston, despite himself, can feel a smile coming on.

He’s saved from having to justify himself as Mitch shuffles in, looking rough but overall relieved at seeing Parker looking healthily flushed instead of pale.

LGood morning,” he greets and crowds in close, kissing Parker’s cheek and then Auston’s before being stopped face to face with Willy, their teammate smiling expectantly, holding his check out.

“In your dreams,” Auston chirps, and if his hand finds Mitch’s to pull him back into his side it’s not his fault.

It feels easy, flirting with him openly in front of their teammate, knowing what they have now is legit.

Auston's just really happy. Mitch is still a little too slow moving around and a bit paler than Auston would like, but he’s smiling, and not mad about Willy knowing, and he cant really ask for much more.

Parker, still on his hip, pokes his shoulder to get his attention, cupping his hand to whisper something to him, and Auston dips his head, leaning down to hear him.

“Pa’cake?” he asks, eyes lit up and hopeful. 

Auston’s so endeared by his shyness in front of Willy that he can’t help but break into a smile, bringing Park closer to the stove to see what his linemate’s all making.

“If you ask Uncle Willy nicely for a Pancake you can have one,” Mitch encourages. 

For a moment Auston thinks the boy will actually stay silent, but he can see him debating, looking longingly at the pancake and then to Willy, trying to decide just how much he wants the food. 

Auston gets it. Talking to strangers sucks.

“Pa’cake?” he eventually asks, quiet and not even looking at Will.

Auston nearly glares Willy into submission when he pretends to be considering if he should give the boy his breakfast.

"Before the tears start, man,” he prods, and Willy breaks easily, offering his fist to bump for Parker.

Parker looks to Auston, nods, then holds out his pointer finger to Willy. It’s something they’ve been working on, their own greeting to replace the fist bumps that Parker, once Auston taught him, would always scrunch his nose at.

Thankfully, Willy adapts easily, holding out his own pointer finger, and they bump once before Parker’s smiling, no longer shyly trying to hide in the shape of Auston’s shoulder.

***

Later, after breakfast, with Parker playing with trains in the living room, Willy is laying it thick on Mitch.

“The team would love Park,” he gushes. And even though Mitch is shaking his head, glancing at Auston, he can tell that he’s considering it.

"He needs to learn how to skate,” Willy says, simple, like that’s the answer. 

"Can you imagine,” he continues, overly horrified, “if the child of Mitch Marner and hockey superstar Auston Matthews can’t skate?”

There’s something sickeningly sweet about his words and Auston finds himself, face hot, overly interested in dragging his pancake through syrup.

“I guess you’re right,” Mitch says, hesitant, and Auston can feel the way his head snaps up, his eyes bulging.

“Really?” he asks, hopeful, and Mitch’s answering smile is soft, a little worried, but also completely transparent, showing his excitement over cuing in the team.

"I think it’s time I start trusting the guys and Willy’s right, Parker shouldn’t be deprived of a whole part of my life just because I’m worried about what people will think.”

Mitch says it so easily, like he’s not laying his anxieties down for them to see. 

“The team will love Parker,” Auston reiterates, and Mitch’s hand finds his under the table, squeezing tight. For a second their eyes meet, glances shy and cheeks blushing red.

“By the way,” Willy mentions, breaking their moment, “Uncle Willy is totally my thing now.” And it makes Mitch’s expression break into smile, his hand leaving Auston’s to pat Willy’s. “You might have to fight twenty other guys to hold that title,” he says.

Auston can’t help but smile, then, too. He can’t wait to see Parker on skates, in the locker room, meeting all the guys.

"How about tomorrow after practice?” he asks, hoping for sooner rather than later. He doesn’t know how long he can wait to show off how cool Parks is. His camera roll has, like, a thousand photos he’s probably going to force on his teammates for hours on end. He can practically feel himself shaking with excitement.

“Yeah, that’ll be perfect,” Mitch decides and it’s set.

Parker Jonathan Marner will officially be a Toronto Maple Leaf by tomorrow afternoon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parker Jo Marner is a leaaafffff
> 
> Comments feed the writer :) 
> 
> Any ideas for the next chapter are very appreciated! Im thinking Mitch and Auston will get to talk about how everything went with him watching over Parker and then Parker will meet the guys and skate a bit :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parker meets the team part one

Realistically, Auston knows he’s not exactly going to be winning any father of the year awards. But that’s mainly because he’s not technically a father yet, no matter how hard he’s trying to be. 

And really, he knows his learning curve is growing, but he shouldn’t be so worried when he knows Mitch started off just as in over his head as he is now. That being said, though, it never hurts to impress the dad-of-the-year judges early with exceptional determination, especially because it really feels like Mitch might let him into their lives completely.

Just- Auston’s not dumb. He used Mitch’s iPad the other night and he saw the electronic request form to add an emergency contact for one Parker Jonathan Marner and he saw his name at the bottom and a fraudulent signature to match and stop him if he’s wrong- but those are some pretty loaded signs. Like, yes, co-parent my impressionable two year old signs. 

So he feels like it’s maybe not wrong to want to woo them through the process, making it easier or giving Mitch assurance that he’s the right choice for them. 

It’s not too hard for him to wake an extra hour early the next day to prove his dedication. Even if he does have to physically drag himself to the bathroom in the barely-there light of six am, it all seems worth it. 

Worth it, because he gets to break into Mitch’s apartment, fire up the stove, and try his hand at cooking once again to, hopefully, impress them. 

At the time, he just figured eggs couldn’t possibly be too difficult, but then the toast started burning and by the time he unplugged the toaster the eggs were boiling and really, smoke alarms shouldn’t be that sensitive. 

To be fair, Auston didn’t even know eggs could burn. He thought they just get grossly firm in the middle if overcooked, not start on fire. 

The main point is that he’s trying. 

So really, he shouldn’t be penalized for the way Mitch finds him, standing on a stool with a broom as he tries to hit the battery out of the fire alarm before 911 is called _again_. 

Mitch, at least, doesn’t seem surprised. Parker, on the other hand, is holding Linus and approximately five toy trains, his little eyes searching for danger. 

“Morning?” Auston tries. 

And if Mitch lets out a breath that’s more of a sigh and Parker’s shoulders drop as he returns his toys to the safety of his room, Auston’s not going to look into it. It’s too early to accept failure. 

“I could try oatmeal,” he hurries to say. He’s barely off the stool before Mitch is grabbing him, aborting his movements towards the stove. 

“Cereal is good,” Mitch promises and there’s a laugh in his tone and his eyes are fond. So even though Auston failed, he kind of feels like he still won this one. 

Even if he didn’t impress Mitch this time, he’ll just keep trying. He’s bound to get it right eventually. 

***

Morning skates are normally pretty brutal and everyone gets to the practice rink early to sort out their sticks and everything for the game later, so it’s not too hard to rally everyone in the dressing room a good half hour before practice is set to start. 

Mitch is somewhere with Babcock and Parker, dressed down since he wont be playing until he’s completely better, while Auston tries to keep Willy from revealing anything to the guys too early. 

“You have to stop smiling like that,” Auston tells him. 

It’s cute that he’s so excited, but still, Auston thinks Mitch will actually kill him if he comes into a room of attack dogs waiting to get the first look at Parker. 

“It’s just crazy,” Willy says. From the corner of his eye, Auston can see him glancing from the door to their teammates and back again, nearly buzzing in his seat. 

As much as Auston’s excited, he’s equally parts nervous. Parker is small and so, so genuine and sweet and Auston’s scared that the brutality of all of this will scare him. 

He kind of hopes Mitch covers the boy’s eyes during their scrimmaging drills. 

“Matts what’s this about?” Freddie calls. He’s all the way across the locker room, so his question draws a silence, expectant eyes falling to Auston. 

“Mitch will be here in a second, it’s nothing bad, don’t worry,” he reassures. He’s saved from having to answer anything else, Mitch sneaking through the smallest possible gap in the locker room doors. 

Auston spares a thought to Parker, whose face is probably pressed up to the wood, trying his best to follow his Dad in. 

Babcock, at least, has vast experience dealing with children given his extensive NHL coaching career, so Auston finds himself not worrying about the boy’s temperament when without his Father or Auston. 

He finds himself drifting as Mitch explains himself to their teammates- how he had a child in Juniors, how the mother is out of the picture, how he would appreciate the team’s support, and why he kept everything on the down low- and instead, Auston finds himself watching everyone’s reactions, waiting for someone to so much as step a toe out of line so he can forcefully redraw their boundaries. 

It’s shouldn’t surprise him that most faces around him are carefully blank. 

“I knew!” Willy points out, showboating. 

“By happy mistake,” Mitch chirps and it at least helps break the tension in the room, making way for more open conversation. 

“Do we get to meet him?” Patty asks. 

“Yeah, what’s his name, what does he like? We have to be prepared, man,” Marty adds. 

Auston can see the way Mitch starts to let his guard down and, in response, he can feel his own body doing the same. 

“Coach,” Mitch calls, and then the locker room doors are opening, Parker purposely well behaved in Babcock’s arms. 

“Everyone, this is Parker,” Mitch introduces. 

Seeing Babcock holding him is something Auston could never have imagined. 

Their Coach’s eyes are un-pinched, his hold relaxed, and his voice quiet as he sets Parker down and tells him, “say hi,” and then to the team, threateningly, “don’t bite.” 

And Parker takes one look around, his little head tilted up to see the large bodies crowding the room and he takes one step back, then two, until he’s bumping into his Dad’s legs. 

Auston can tell he’s shaking, looking up to Mitch for answers on why he’s suddenly in a room with all these big, scary men, but when Parker looks back around his eyes land on Auston, freezing for a minute as if unsure.

“Go to Aus,” Mitch prods, and Parker, still weary of everyone else, toddles through the center of the room, watching the guys with wide eyes as if expecting them to pounce. 

Everyone is carefully silent as Parker steps all over the sacred maple leaf logo imprinted on the locker room floor. 

It’s just the practice rink. Worse has been done. 

Auston’s more concerned with the way Parker is eyeing the guy next to him, Morgan, as he gets closer and closer but his steps get more hesitant. 

On Auston’s other side, Willy opens his arm, “come to Uncle Willy,” he says. And, like, Parker’s amazing- he looks at Willy like he’s crazy.

There’s admittedly also recognition there, so Park does his best to waddle the rest of the way to them in a straight line between Willy and Auston so that he doesn’t have to get within arm’s reach of any strangers. 

To Auston’s amusement, Parker actually presses Willy’s reaching hands down when he gets to them. From there, Auston’s too busy laughing at his line-mate to realize that his teammates are watching, calculating, as Parker climbs into his lap with practiced ease. 

“Meet Daddy’s friends,” Auston tells him, gentle, and Parker is at least calm enough to give him some sass, eying him like ‘do I have to?’ 

“Common, baby,” he soothes. He balances Parker carefully on his hip and brings him first to Morgan since he’s closest. Dividing to concur seems like the best idea.

“This is Mo, can you say Mo?” Auston asks. Mo is terribly hopeful and, to his credit, his smile stays even after Parker quietly says ‘oh,’ thinking he’s saying it right. 

At their back, Auston can feel Mitch hovering, coming close after being caught in conversation with some of the guys. 

“What’s up?” Auston ask him, just as Parker’s started giggling at something Mo’s doing. 

When he looks back Morgan is sticking his tongue through the gap from his missing tooth. 

“Babcock wants me to see the trainers quick just to make sure I’m hydrated and everything,” Mitch says, and there’s a question there. 

“I’ve got Park,” Auston assures and he misses the smile Mitch beams at him, only catching the end as he squeezes Auston’s arm and yells a, “I’ll be back by the time practice starts,” as he leaves the locker room. 

Auston doesn’t miss the way Parker’s eyes follow his Dad out of the room. It’s only once Mitch is completely gone that he hides his head in the crook of Auston’s neck. 

Next to them, Marty’s holding down a smirk. “That was domestic,” he says, knowingly. 

Auston glares him down. 

“Park, this is Uncle Marty, he’s the worst,” he tells Parker seriously, even though the little boy is still deep in hiding. It’s more for his own satisfaction anyway. 

Around the room there’s uproar from his introduction, cries over the ease of the given title of ‘Uncle,’ but even more of the outcry is from calling him that instead of “grandpa.”

“Im not that old,” Marty yells over their arguing, but they vastly ignore him. He’s all bark and no bite as long as you’re wearing the same jersey. 

As they’re bickering, Auston has to forcefully pull Parker’s arms from around his neck. “Daddy will be so happy if you like his teammates,” he tells him. Parker’s lip wobbles and Auston gives in, forced to cradle him close again, rocking Parker back and forth. 

“Why don’t we just try saying Marty’s name, honey?” he tries. Parker nods against his chest, but Auston still lets him hide there until the room’s quieted down a little. 

When Marty’s done threatening submission into their teammates, he comes back to Parker, voice soft as he talks. “Me and your Dad are best friends,” he says. 

Auston can feel Parker glance up him, as if looking for confirmation. 

“Tell him about that time you guys got lost in Boston,” Auston prods. 

Marty doesn’t hesitate. He sets in on the story, voice still soft as he uses exaggerated hand gestures for his dramatic retelling of the Boston Incident that almost got both him and Mitch sat out as healthy scratches after they missed a team dinner because they were forced to sit through a three hour string concert. Honestly, Auston still doesn’t understand the finer details of that night, but he knows they somehow got back on a train and that’s enough to get Parker interested. 

By the end the boy’s eyes are wide, his shyness long gone as he holds onto each of Matt’s words. 

When they try again to get him to say Marty’s name, he picks up more on the words their teammates said. 

“Gran,” Parker tries, his best attempt at ‘Grandpa’, and the new name is set as law from the cheers and laughs of the team. 

It’s pretty safe to say everyone’s taken by Parker. Zach promises copies of his book, Bozak sets up a playdate, and Kadri hangs his gold chain around the boy’s neck.

More than once Auston has to stop his teammates from drowning Parker in their gear, chirping, low so Park can’t hear, “the day that foul-smelling shit touches my kid is the day I’m traded to Vegas.” 

He doesn’t realize until the words are already said that he’s called Parker ‘his kid’ out loud. Thankfully, no one points it out. 

It seems like everything’s going pretty great and by the time Parker’s met everyone he’s even more relaxed, not gripping onto Auston as hard. 

Mitch still doesn’t get back before they have to get changed for practice, though.

It leaves Auston with a dilemma. He places Parker down in his cubby and, as he looks around at his teammates, he winces. 

“Take my hat,” Freddie says, and Auston breathes out, relieved, putting the cap on Parker and lowering it over his eyes. At least now he won’t be scarred by the end of the day. 

The best part of this all ends up being when Auston nonchalantly lifts off the hat, not expectant of the way Parker’s eyes widen at him in his gear. 

“Aus,” Parker points, as if wanting Auston to look down at himself. He does, but doesn’t really understand what Parker wants him to see. 

“It’s my gear, baby,” he tells him. It’s confusing until he remembers that this whole part of Mitch’s life has been completely kept in the dark from Parker. 

He probably doesn’t even know what hockey is or what skates are. 

As much as it pulls at Auston’s heart, it also makes him really excited for practice to end so that Mitch and him can take Parker around the ice and get a stick in his hands. 

But Mitch doesn’t even come back as they’re getting on the ice, Parker left to sit on the bench as Auston stretches in front of him. 

“How you doing, buddy?” he asks. 

Even though Parker’s been great, Auston knows this is a lot for him. 

He even seems to be considering his answer, his still-wide eyes sweeping over the rink around them. 

“It’s,” he starts, and Auston feels heavy, waiting on the next word. This is kind of make or break, a deciding factor on whether or not Parker spends more time around the team, around them. 

“Fun,” he decides, face still so serious and calculating that it takes Auston a second to even let the word sink in. 

When it does, his breath rushes out of him in a laugh. “You’re a menace,” he teases, his heart still pounding from trepidation. He can’t help but reach forward to pull Parker over the boards, holding him tight as he spins them, tickling under the boy’s chin in retaliation. 

Parker is squealing under the attack, giggles bursting out of him in waves. He’s not scared of the ice or how fast they’re turning and when Auston balances him on the ground he stands sure, steady. 

“Looks like we’ve got a future skater,” Babcock snorts. Auston can feel his prideful smile growing. 

“We’ll put him in some after practice,” he says, and Parker points at Auston’s skates. 

“Me?” he asks, his face covered in a wave of disbelief. 

There’s too many feelings crowding up Auston’s chest right now. “Yeah, Park, you,” he promises. 

He can feel the team watching them and his eyes are maybe not the driest right now, so he swoops Parker back up into his arms, giving the excuse of taking a lap to stretch his legs to his teammates so that he’s not stuck under their watchful gazes as his heart decides to beat a little differently. 

It takes him a full three laps at a snail’s pace for his mind to stop spacing out, stuck on the idea that everything he wants could be everything he has if him and Mitch keep moving forward the way they are. 

“Parker?” he asks, and this time when he goes down the long end of the rink he stops them at the benches, setting Parker down. 

“Yeah?” Parker asks back. He’s still being overly quiet with everyone around, but he’s at least talking. It makes Auston even more proud of him. 

“Would you like it if I was around for a long, long time?” he asks. Even he can hear the slight tremor in his voice. 

Parker doesn’t leave him waiting for long, though, his little head bobbling like a bobble doll. 

“And if I was with your Dad?” he asks, then, hoping Parker understands. 

This time the nod is more hesitant. Auston doesn’t quite know how to take that until Parker is holding out his pointer finger for him. 

“No cook,” the little boy says, seriously, his finger just out of reach. 

The amount of relief that floods through Auston leaves him giddy, his smile so big it’s hurting. 

“Promise,” he says, and Parker lets their fingers bop. 

Now that Auston has the needed seal of approval, all that’s left is for him to actually be an adult and really talk to Mitch about everything.

It’s daunting but good, Auston left reeling over the life he’s been given. 

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to come back to reality, stuck pretending to stretch as thoughts fill and cloud his mind. 

Parker’s jaw dropping is all that pushes him back to the present. 

“Park?” Auston asks, but there’s no response, the little boy climbing down from the bench and lifting his arms up for Auston to pick him up. 

“See, see,” he begs, and Auston complies, still confused. It’s only once he’s turned around that he sees Freddie in all of his goalie gear. 

“That’s Uncle Freddie,” he tells Parker, but it’s not enough. The boy’s arms reach for Freddie and Auston’s left to skate them over and help Parker stand on the ice in front of his friend.

It’s adorable, seeing someone so massive next to someone so tiny. 

Parker even lets his head fall back completely to see, his big, blue eyes wide as ever as he stares up at Freddie. 

“Choo,” he says, mystically, and Auston can’t help but snort, hiding it from Freddie as the older glares at him. 

“What does that mean?” he asks, and when Auston doesn’t answer right away he threateningly skates forward a step, leaving Auston with his hands raised in innocence.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, “It’s just- Parker normally makes that noise for trains.” 

Freddie, at least, seems amused. 

“I am a tank,” he says, thoughtful, and Auston finds his eyes rolling. 

Still, Parker is mesmerized, tracing their every movement. 

“Want a ride?” Auston asks him, crouching down to the boy’s level. 

Parker looks to him, hopeful, and Freddie starts protesting, but then Auston’s forcing Parker into his arms. 

“Take him for a spin,” he laughs, saluting them off. 

And even though Freddie starts off holding Parker awkwardly, he eventually wraps an arm under the boy’s thighs and another around his belly to keep him safely against his chest as he starts skating his way around the ice. 

Even with the improved hold, he still cradles Parker with the caution of someone holding a ticking bomb.

“I’m calling CPS,” comes a call, and Auston turns to see Mitch at the bench, a tiny, Parker-sized leaf’s jacket and matching knit hat in his hands. 

“For not bundling him up? It’s not too cold in here,” Auston argues, skating over and accepting the offered clothes anyway. 

Mitch shrugs, smile teasing, “if not for the cold, then for letting a two hundred fifty pound man of muscle steal my boy.” 

Auston glances around at their teammates, whose eyes are all trailing after Parker and Freddie, smiles on their faces. 

“I think Parker’s safer than the president, here,” he teases back and Mitch’s smile grows as he nods. 

“This went pretty well,” he says. 

Understatement of the century. 

“Zach is bringing copies of his books to the game tonight, Bozak wants a play date on thursday night, and I’m pretty sure Parker imprinted on Mo, so we should watch out for that incase he decides to, like, try to follow him home.” 

He gets a startled laugh out of Mitch and it makes him feel sappy, coming a little closer until all that’s between them is the boards at the bench. 

“Willy and Zach said they’d babysit for us,” he mentions, overly casual for how fast his heart’s beating. 

This close he can’t help but notice how unreal Mitch’s eyelashes are, fanned out around his dark grey-blue eyes. 

“Oh yeah?” Mitch asks, coy. Auston’s pretty sure if he had long hair he’d be twirling it right now, bubble gum popping in his mouth to seal the picture. 

He feels his skates hit the boards, unable to come closer, but Mitch makes up for the barrier, leaning forward as Auston does. 

Even with their teammates buzzing around behind them, everything that’s not right up close seems muted, far away as they’re under the spell of intimacy. 

“Dinner Friday night?” Auston asks. Mitch glances down, then back up at him, a play at shyness. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” he says, but his smirk is telling. 

When he tries to back up, Auston’s hands wrap around his waist. 

“Is that a yes?” he asks. 

In his arms, Mitch lets himself be trapped, his smirk turning slowly into a soft smile. 

“Yeah, Aus,” he assures, quiet, just between the two of them, “that sounds perfect.” 

Behind them, Coach’s whistle screams and Parker is handed over the boards to Mitch even as his and Auston’s eyes stay locked, overtaken by whatever feeling has settled over them, hot like honey and soft as a breeze against their fluttering hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up being soooo long that I'm going to cut meeting the team into two chapters and have Auston's parents coming up in the one after part two with the team 
> 
> Comments feed the writer <3 Let me know what else you'd like to see happen with the team or what you like/didn't like!
> 
> I'm back at school now so it'll probably be a little longer between chapters but it shouldn't be drastically different from how often I was posting before :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny bit of angst, but all is well in the end :)

Hockey is natural in a way most things aren’t for Auston. His mind lulls under the rhythmic pounding of pucks and checks against the boards, his heart steadying under the gracefully brutal sway of movement from teammates and coaches alike. 

It’s then, in between strides, rushing after the puck, that his thoughts settle, his glances to Mitch and Parker weaning as he gets lost in the game he loves. 

He’s not numb to their presence, though. 

He knows Parker starts off scared, not wanting to pound on the boards like Mitch shows him. 

But by the time Auston gets the chance to skate over to them, back-checking the glass in front of them, Parker is smiling, unafraid, his palms slapping the glass in a feeble attempt to reach for Auston. 

After that he’s more aware, but just barley, of teammates copying him, slamming next to Mitch and Parker just to get the little boy laughing. 

It’s different for Auston, who’s so used to seeing Bozie or Leo favoring one side of the ice during warmups or open practices, their wives balancing their kids on the edge of the boards. 

He always would watch them with a smile, give his own greeting, but he never longed for it. Not until now.

Mitch’s smile is bright, Parker’s eyes are lit up, and Auston wishes he could spend every game with them on the glass, his own personal cheering squad. 

It makes him feel something he can’t quite place, a certain sadness over knowing that this probably wont happen again given that Mitch will be playing by tomorrow. 

“Heads up!” The call pulls Auston back into the mindlessness of drills, dodging the errant puck and hustling over to his next assigned shooting spot. 

Today, he finds it harder to sink into the familiarity of this particular drill, standing motionless as he waits for the puck to come to him. 

Across the ice, Mitch is pointing out players to Parker. His head is ducked down, a show of how gentle, how soft, how calm, how collected he is with his son. 

Auston’s breath catches, and for a moment, completely unsurprised, he actually thinks Mitch has taken his breath away, but then a puck is falling at his feet, his chest stinging with a ache he knows won’t leave him for days. 

“My bad, you okay man?” Willy is skating up to him, their drill paused as Auston tries to catch his breath, looking from his teammate to the motionless puck between his skates. 

He rubs at his chest, catches Mitch’s confused, concerned gaze, and tries to hide his blush under the ruse of faking hurt, exaggerating his pain as he fights down a smile at Willy’s rolling eyes. 

“Good shot, Wills,” he chirps, half-choked, “but the net’s over there.” 

Coach’s whistle blows just as Willy is shoving him, a matching forced-down smile on his face. 

“Boys, lets try to remember that we’re professionals,” Babs yells, breaking them up. When he skates past Auston he taps him with his stick. “Try not to daydream too much, boy-wonder.” 

Coach’s knowing smirk is all it takes for Auston to glue his eyes to the puck, refusing to get drawn in and lost in thought again because of Mitch’s presence. 

Still, during the final drill, he’s distracted once again until he comes to the realization that he really needs to talk things out properly with Mitch. 

He knows there’s a connection between them- hell, Mitch even kissed him back on the bus and when they said goodnight. But even that feels unknown, like they’ve maybe not been the most responsible with talking things through. 

Auston doesn’t think it’s their fault, though, or on purpose, because things just got hectic. Parker got sick, then Mitch got sick, and it didn’t leave much time for them to have an open, honest heart to heart. 

He’s just not willing to leave things unsaid before their date, though, so he knows they should talk soon. 

Maybe tonight they can finally sit down and work things out like they should’ve after the Edmonton trip. 

****

Auston’s after practice shower is possibly the fastest recorded shower in human history. 

Still having dripping wet hair and errant soap suds doesn’t bother him, though, not when he gets to rush back out to the rink in sweats and a sweatshirt to see Mitch lacing Parker up in skates. 

“Is it bad that I’m probably more excited than him?” Auston greets. 

Mitch glances up at him, shaking his head ‘no,’ his bottom lip held nervously in the catch of his teeth. 

Auston cant look at him biting his lip like that and not think of how those same lips slotted perfectly against his own, Mitch’s hand light as it traced the inside of his wrist to keep him from moving away. 

That same, abused bottom lip gets released as a hesitant smile breaks over Mitch’s face. 

“Can you lace him up?” he asks, blushing. He starts ringing his hands out as stands, “I’m getting, like, nervous,” he admits. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Auston soothes, his rampant thoughts put on lockdown. 

His own hand goes easily to the small of Mitch’s back, guiding him to sit down on the bench next to where Parker is swinging his legs, unconcerned by his Dad’s sporadic behavior. Auston figures Mitch will spit out his worries when he’s ready, and he’s right. 

“What if he wants to play hockey?” Mitch asks a second later. He’s breathless enough that Auston guesses that it wouldn’t be a good thing if Parker did. 

“I mean, you played at his age,” he reasons. 

Mitch’s head shakes in response, his eyes wide. 

“I owe my Mom a thousand apologies,” he says. 

And Auston snorts, carefully tying up one skate and then the other. “Parker will grow,” he promises.

It does nothing to calm Mitch’s nerves, so Auston distracts him with their own skates and they settle into the familiarity of lacing up as they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. 

Parker is anything but content while waiting for them. His eyes watch, his forehead furrowed, as his bladed feet swing from where they hang off the bench.

“Like your skates?” Auston asks. 

Parker’s lips purse, like he’s deciding, but he just shrugs, still watching them curiously. 

Even once they’re done tying their own skates, ready to hit the ice, Mitch hesitates and Auston has to pull him up to his feet just to get them moving.

Much to Auston’s amusement and Mitch’s horror, Parker’s first steps on the ice are anything but careful. The toddler goes in swinging, throwing his weight every possible way to stay standing and only does so because of the firm grip Mitch and Auston have on each of his hands. 

His big, blue eyes are determined, but there’s also a panicked, frantic edge there as well. 

“Breathe,” Auston suggests to him, and from the corner of his eyes he can see Mitch following his instructions more than Parker is. 

Between them, the toddler teeters, unbalanced on the ice, and his foot kicks up, his skate blade clipping Auston’s sweatpants. He shrugs at the new tear, but Mitch’s eyes are wide. 

“The league is getting safer,” Auston hears him whisper to himself. And he feels bad for laughing, but it comes out of him in a surprised punch, forcing Mitch to start smacking him in retaliation. 

Under fire, Auston has to let go of Parker to evade the attack. 

Somehow, he ends up with his butt planted on the blue line, Mitch and Parker laughing at him now, standing only feet away. 

Auston can practically see the cogs turning in Mitchy’s head as they settle.

“Can you skate to Auston?” he asks Parker. The little boy looks to him, unsure, but when he glances back at his Dad he nods. 

His first step is shaky and Mitch’s hand, that’s around his arm, is all that keep him standing. 

There’s only a couple feet left to go, though, and Auston opens his arms, trying his best to smile even though some of Mitch’s nervousness is starting to rub off on him as Parker goes to take his first step unassisted. He remembers too well the often physical pains of learning how to skate. 

“You can do it,” he promises, sure. Parker looks at him like he’s insane, his eyes wide and tongue poking out in concentration as his left skate scoots forward on the ice. 

He makes it one step, then two, and Auston can tell before he’s even started to wobble that his next step is going to throw him way off balance. 

If he slides a inch closer and stretches his arms a little further to pull Parker the rest of the way in, there’s no one there to call him on it. 

“You did it!” he cheers, as he pulls Parker into his arms. 

Above the boy’s head, Mitch’s smile is watery and proud, and Auston can feel the way his own smile redoubles as their eyes lock, stretching his cheeks to an almost painful point. He can’t think of a time in his life he’s ever been happier for someone else. 

Confidence ends up being the key for Parker and he skates somewhat better back to Mitch, and then keeps going the couple steps from one of them to the other, receiving hugs and kisses as rewards until Auston’s butt is so numb from the ice that he cant even feel it. 

“He’s a natural. What did I say?” The voices of their freshly showered teammates crowd the rink; Willy, Zach, Marty, Patty, and Freddie all crowed just on the edge of the ice. They’re hiding something behind their backs. 

Auston can tell Parker’s gearing up to skate all the way to them, but he knows that’s a little too far and the kid doesn’t need a hit to his confidence so early, so he scoops Parker up, bringing him closer to the guys. 

Mitch ices them just to get a giggle out of the boy. 

“What’d you bring?” Auston asks. He’s not quite sure gifts from their teammates should ever be accepted in front of anyone under the age of their current youngest player, but Mitch seems unconcerned, making grabby hands at Patty since he seems to be the one holding most of the concealed objects. Mitch’s gesture is hilariously familiar. 

Auston just prays the gift isn’t a pack of condoms. If it is and Parker asks, he’s leaving that conversation for Mitch to handle. 

“Patty,” Mitch stutters, and he has full right to, because he’s suddenly holding a Parker-sized hockey stick and leafs helmet. 

“When did you even have time to get all of this?” Auston asks. He skates a little closer so that Parker can marvel at the new gear, too. 

“Texted my wife before practice, she dropped off everything,” he shrugs. Mitch punches his shoulder, “Dude.” 

“Thank you,” Auston adds more eloquently.

The helmet is a little big on Parker, but what isn’t, and the stick seems perfect. 

It’s only natural that they decide to play a game, even after hours of practice. 

“I’m in goal,” Freddie calls, still in street shoes. Auston grabs him by the hood of his sweatshirt. 

“Nope, unfair advantage, you’re on team Marns,” he decides. 

“Who’s going to be in goal then?” Freddie asks. Auston’s smirk is maybe edging on the side of evil. Willy, smartly, is trying to hide behind Zach, but the other player is staying carefully neutral. 

“You did hit him with a puck,” Hyms points out, not letting Willy cower behind him. 

Auston still has to fight to drag him to the net. 

They only play half of the ice and the game starts off pretty tame, especially as they carefully skirt around Parker’s bobbled passes and missed pucks. But by the first goal, their athleticism starts to set in, each of them checking their teammates and fighting over the puck. 

Willy doesn’t have gear on, so they keep their shots carefully gentle, but still, it’s, surprisingly, a workout. 

They’re even more careful to rein it in whenever Parker is near, even if he’s in Mitch, Auston, or Freddie’s arms. 

A couple times he even ends up being held up by their temporary rivals; Zach, Patty, or Marty helping the toddler shoot at Willy. 

The game essentially ends up being a well disguised, careful, beat down of Auston's line mates. 

Even with only half the guys on skates, the game actually moves pretty fast and the couple times they do stumble, they’re quick to turn it into more of a touch-tackle type scrimmage, the guys on skates either helping the others stay standing or pushing them to the ground. 

To Auston’s surprise, Parker is loving every violent minute of it.

After the toddler’s first goal, heavily assisted by both Freddie and Marty, he’s more than happy to be dragged along the ice whether it’s up on his skates or down on his belly in a show of solidarity with their tackling. 

A few times Parker even happily stands in goal with Will, (purposely or not) blocking nearly slow-motion pucks. 

Their determined first intermission makes them aware that they’ve managed to gather a crowd. Anyone who stayed after practice is at the bench, Coach included. 

“My bet’s on the Marners,” Connor tells them. Willy makes him be a ref after that comment, forced to call out Marty tackling Mitch to the ice as a penalty the second they start their next period. 

They very diplomatically decide that Parker will get a shot on goal for the infraction, and Mitch and Marty stay laid out on the ice, cheering with their backs against the boards as Parker skates up, wobbly, to Willy. 

Auston’s more than ready to dart forward incase Parks falls, but he seems steady as he lines up and Willy crouches to defend the shot. 

“You got it Park!” Auston cheers, and it starts a roar from behind him, sticks hitting the ice as Parker winds up. 

He shoots left, and Willy, seconds after seeing which way the puck is going, dives right, face aghast as if he’s just lost them the cup. If he has to use his heel to nudge the puck the last inch into the net, he disguises it well. 

The cheers from the team fill the rink, and, in jest, Auston throws Parker on his shoulder for a victory lap, letting him lead his line through their teammate’s high-fives like they would in games. 

At the end of the line, Mitch is waiting and Auston passes Parker off with practiced ease, letting the father squeeze his boy to pieces. 

When Willy comes by Parker squirms for him, though, and Mitch, obviously surprised, holds out his kid for his teammate. 

“Hey, buddy, nice shot,” Willy tells him as he holds him. He’s a natural, it seems, even as Parker’s mood flips. The toddler nods solemnly at Will, a small frown on his face so contrary to his gap-toothed grin from seconds ago. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes for his goal, and the politeness sends a fit of laughter through their teammates. 

Parker glares each and every one of them down for laughing, patting Willy’s face in consolation for his bad goaltending. 

“Kid’s too nice for hockey,” Mo chirps, pushing Mitch. Mitch, as always, gives it right back, play fighting Mo until he taps out. 

“Don’t forget we have a game tonight, boys,” Coach calls over them. It starts a new battle, guys fighting over whose jersey Parker gets to wear tonight. 

Auston’s stomach turns viciously. 

He kind of hoped Parker would wear the one he got him for his birthday, his last name stamped over the back and his signature nestled in the crook of the four. 

“Sorry, guys,” Mitch quiets them. He accepts his son back from Willy, ignoring the outraged cries of his teammates. 

“He’s not wearing yours, is he?” Jake asks, voice edging over into concern. He has a point; it’s not the smartest idea to print your last name over a toddler’s back when you’re trying to hide said kid from the media. 

But Mitch’s smile grows, something unfamiliar, almost unusual behind it. “He’s wearing his Dad’s,” he says, and refuses to say much more. 

“Is it a weird jersey or something? Limited addition?” Leo teases. Mitch is carefully tight-lipped. 

Auston can accept that, even if he is a little let down. He mostly got Parker his jersey as a joke when he first met him, anyway. He didn’t know why he expected him to wear it. Obviously he’d wear his Dad’s. 

“Matts!” Mitch calls as he chases him to the locker room. Auston tries to erase any disappointment from his face before he turns around. He’s not quite sure he succeeds. 

“Naz is going to take me home is that okay?” Mitch asks. 

It’s definitely not what Auston expected and somehow it makes the bruising around his heart clench and fester. 

“Yeah,” he lies, “I have to nap before the game, anyway.” 

He cant help feeling like he’s being replaced. Like Mitch just needed a hand and now all the guys are there Auston’s just another one of them. 

Mitch beams at him, completely unaware that Auston’s eyes are stinging. 

He knows he’s being ridiculous, but he cant help feeling what he’s feeling no matter how hard he tries to stamp it all down. 

“Cool,” Mitch says, nodding, “I just need to get Parker’s carseat from your car.” He’s distracted as he’s talking, typing away on his phone, carefully avoiding Auston’s gaze. 

It’s weird. It’s not like him. 

For a second, Auston worries he’s done something wrong. 

“Mitch if I-” 

But Naz joins them, cutting off Auston, Parker on his hip as if he’s known the boy forever. 

For Auston, it felt like it took days for Parker to completely warm up to him and now he’s happy in Nazem’s arms, not even throwing a fit despite meeting all these new people. And Auston’s proud of him, he really is, but he just- he thought he was special. 

It’s stupid, really. 

Parker isn’t his kid. He’s Mitch’s and Auston’s been stuck playing pretend, thinking it would get him somewhere instead of tossed to the side by whatever teammate’s willing to step up in the moment. 

Pain turned to sadness rushes hot to anger, and his nails bite into his palm as he tries to ground himself. 

Why Auston ever thought that Mitch wanted him to be Parker's Dad just because he kissed him is beyond him, now. Being someone's boyfriend doesn't mean they think you could be their kid's parent. He feels sick for being so naive and stupid, and thinking he had a handle on all of this. 

He’s twenty. He’s barely able to take care of himself. He was just a helping hand. 

He should’ve known. 

Now that the guys are here, Mitch doesn’t need him like that. 

“We should get going,” Naz says, and Mitch nods along, easy, as Auston’s mind tears him apart. “You’re right, time crunch and all.” 

Auston doesn’t care enough to ask what ‘time-crunch’ they’re on. “See ya,” he says, and finds the nearest bathroom to reel himself in, in peace, while no one is the wiser. 

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to pull himself together enough to drive home.

He's questioning everything.

Getting to his apartment is no help, either, leaving him face to face with the pictures Mitch and Parker gave him hanging in his walkway.

He stares at them for too long.

Feeling sick, he forfeits lunch and goes straight to bed, not even bothering to undress.

Everything he did was in vain. His pre-game nap ends up being more like a pre-game blink as his mind runs rampant, clouding with uncertainties.

Even entering the atmosphere of the ACC on game day does nothing for him as he walks, alone, through the halls to their locker room. 

Brownie tries to stop him at the door, but Auston’s not in the mood for whatever Willy’s put him up to this time. 

“Connor, move.” He cant even muster up enough strength to sound annoyed. 

His attitude must show because Connor raises his hands in innocence, disappearing behind their doors before Auston can even get another word out. 

It’s too easy, but he figures his teammate has finally found some self preservation. Freddie will be so proud. 

Before he enters after Connor, Auston finds himself taking a deep breath, wanting to come into the game with a clear head despite his problems. 

So of course, the first thing he sees when he goes through the doors is Mitch and Parker in the dead center of the room. 

He barely can comprehend that each and everyone one of their teammates are standing around them, signs in their hands, because his mind is stuttering uselessly over the fact that Parker’s sleeve is imprinted with a three and a four, clear as day, no matter how many times he tries to blink away the mirage. 

“Mitch?” he asks, hesitant.

He gets a smile in response, a wide spread of arms, but his eyes are still glued to Parker. 

“You said he’d be wearing your jersey,” Auston says, dumbly. 

Mitch’s arms spread a little wider. “I said he’d be wearing his Dad’s jersey,” he corrects. 

Auston nods slow, unsure. “Yeah, so why isn’t he wearing yours?” he asks. 

There’s errant laughter from around him, but Auston can barely spare a glance away from Mitch and Parker.

“Geez, dude, look around,” Willy chirps. 

Auston can’t be blamed for being so slow on the uptake. He’s had a rough couple of hours. 

His eyes flitter from one teammate, one sign, to another, trying to make sense of the words his friends are holding up. 

Naz’s sign says “ _Will_.” 

Next to him, Patty is holding “ _you_ ” and Willy is holding “ _be_.” 

Coach stands just on the outskirts of their group, “ _my_ ” in a giant sprawl over his whiteboard. 

Mitch, in the middle, is holding Parker, a sign nearly twice the the boy’s size dangled in front of them. 

 

It says " _Dad?"_. 

 

Auston’s eyes travel the room again, looking for cameras or someone who’s ready to tell him this is all a dream, or that he never woke up, or that it’s a horrific prank, but then Mitch’s smile is starting to turn, and, _fuck_ , if this is a dream Auston wants to live in it forever, playing along until he's lived out every scenario. 

His answer is easy, steady; a thousand words of simplicity. 

“Yes,” he says, and it sounds more like a choked cough than a voice, but Mitch hears him and Mitch is smiling, and Parker is there and content holding up a sign asking Auston to be his Dad, and he’s- Auston’s crying. 

He’s so many things at once and Mitch is pulling him forward, carefully into his arms to comfort him. 

“This wasn’t exactly the reaction I expected.” He sounds hesitant, shocked maybe, or concerned, but Auston can barley tell over the thundering of his heart what’s real right now.

“I’m just-” he starts, and has to clear the tears from his face to get out another sound, “-I’m really happy,” he admits. 

He’s honestly never felt like this before in his life and he’s so unsure why he feels like he’s floating while simultaneously being grounded by wide, baby blue eyes he’s grown to love. 

“Thank you, Parker,” he manages, and he’s pulling the boy in closer, pressing kiss after kiss to his head as he uses his other arm to keep Mitch tight to his side. 

“Thank you, Mitchy,” he whispers, between the two of them. 

The most he hopped for earlier today was a date, a chance at a future with them. This is much, much, better on every level. 

“I want to date you,” Mitch says, “and that night on the bus you were so sure you wanted us, but I’ve never let anyone close because I was worried- but you- Auston I-” 

Mitch can’t get the words out, but Auston’s laughing through his tears, rubbing a hand down Mitch’s back to soothe him even though he’s the one with the full-blown water works going on. 

“Today Junior,” he teases, gentle. Mitch taps their foreheads, then buries a kiss on Auston’s cheek and another in Parker’s hair, regrouping himself. 

This time when he starts he’s more sure, confident, like Parker on the ice today, led towards smooth sailing by a steady hand on his back. 

“I want to date you,” Mitch says, steady, “and dating me comes with being a father to Parker. So, Auston Matthews, will you do me the honor of being my boyfriend and a parent to my son?” 

There’s cat-calls and hollers from all around them, but Auston only has eyes and ears for two people. 

“I’d love to,” he promises, much more put together than his last answer. 

The deal is sealed with a kiss, Mitch pulling him in even as tape shreds and press papers fly at them like rice on a wedding day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly hard, mostly because my classes right now are mainly focused on very gruesome case studies, so it's hard to come home and write happy fluff, but yay finally got the chapter out, hope it's okay. After this week that should calm down :) 
> 
> Please leave comments or suggestions because they help me so much to write and get in that happy headspace and think up new ideas based on all of your suggestions! Thank you for reading <3 
> 
> Next chapter will have the Matthew's fam meeting Parker and I'd love to hear what you guys are wanting to see! 
> 
> And FINALLY, this chapter was originally written with a very out of place sex scene that I removed, but if anyone would like me to post that separately, just say the word!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Matthews

Auston’s life has never felt so settled. 

He’s got his boyfriend- his teammate, his best friend- watching the game from the press box with the kid he’s grown to love and it feels indescribable. 

It’s cliché, but he swears he can feel each pump of his heart hit his sternum, making it’s presence felt under the joy he’s drowning in. 

“Matty!” Willy yells, slamming him into the boards. Their passes have been connecting beautifully tonight, their latest leading to a pull-ahead goal. 

With so much going on around him it’s hard to focus, leaving Auston dizzy as the crowd roars to their feet at his goal. Even as he skates back towards the bench his eyes get caught scanning the crowd, enamored by the lights and screams of thousands of people. 

Somehow it feels new, bringing a rush of adrenaline. 

Auston raises his stick, takes a lap, then lines up. 

The game feels electric, his goal and everyone before and after it ending with a salute being aimed at the press box for their guests of the night. 

Even after three periods Auston is still overwhelmed, feeling like he’s got fire coursing in his blood, making him as giddy as he restless.

When Mitch and Parker join them in locker room, after the media has gone, it only makes what he’s feeling double-down. 

He can’t imagine going home, staring up at his grey ceiling while his head is crowded with the reality of his new life and his new commitment to being a boyfriend and a parent. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to worry about that for long, Mitch cornering him and asking, low, just between the two of them, “stay over?” 

Auston nearly breaks his neck nodding. 

Mitch’s responding smile is worth any possible spinal injury. 

“Good game tonight,” he says. There’s a level of intimacy to his tone that makes Auston’s head go quiet, his hands settling, steady, on Mitch’s waist. 

_This is my boyfriend, my family_ , he thinks dreamily. 

Mitch’s smile goes teasing as he nudges Auston, shocking him from his dizzying thoughts. 

“You too,” Auston hurries to say. 

He winces once the words catch up with him, but Mitch is laughing, amused at how gone Auston is for him. 

It’s whatever. It’s not like it’s a secret anymore. 

Auston kisses him then and there just because he can.

-

It takes them a while to find Parker once they stop exchanging loaded glances, soft touches, and teasing words. 

Mitch passed him off to teammate and that teammate passed him to another, but they find him safely with Hainsey, Bozak, and Leo, shyly hiding as they try to introduce him to their own kids and wives. 

Auston sees all these couples, happily pressed close, holding hands as their kids putter around at their feet and he finds his gaze landing on Mitch. 

He wants what they have, and Mitch is willing to give him that, even straight up asked him in front of everyone if he would be a parent, a boyfriend, a guardian. Auston’s still reeling. 

After meeting Parker, he never imaged he’d actually get the chance to fulfill a parental role for boy. Time after time he imagined it, hating the longing that felt like a gaping hole, sharp in his chest, as he pictured zoo trips and school days. Honestly, his love for him felt like an extension of his love for Mitch. Auston just wanted to be a part of their lives, a part of their family.

He has to shake himself from his thoughts, feeling them first damper then rejuvenate his joy. 

His hand finds Mitch’s then, holding tight and squeezing before Parker notices their presence and Auston’s forced to drop it, letting Mitch pick up his son.

-

For a long time as they’re waiting to leave, Auston festers over what Mitch meant by “stay over,” but by ten, once they’re home and Parker is tucked in, it’s obvious that there’s no hidden meaning. 

Mitch even yawns mid-kiss as they're tossing throw pills off the bed, forcing Auston to pull away, laughing. 

"Okay, time to get you some sleep," he teases, pushing Mitch onto his back on the bed. 

He falls willingly, his arms carelessly pliant at his sides, his shirt pushed up to show off the cut of his abs, and it takes Auston a beat to force himself away, thoughts ditching him to imagine the way he could've crawled over Mitch and pinned him to the bed, leaving bites along the delicate stretch of skin of his jaw. 

"Grab some clothes," Mitch prods, still laid out, his eyes closed and expression peaceful. 

Auston tears his eyes away to do so with only minor difficulty. 

They get ready for bed like they do on the road, Auston using the bathroom first, then Mitch, followed by the Tv flicking on, playing softly as background noise. 

This time, though, they get into the same bed, Auston letting Mitch be the big spoon. 

He’s too tired to stay awake for long, but they try to talk anyway, their responses and questions growing further and further apart until the Tv’s sleep timer goes off and they’re covered in darkness. 

The settling weight of the night leaves Auston pressed down into the warm sheets, slipping off to sleep feeling like he’s bundled in a cloud with Mitch against his back. 

-

His eyes pull open to darkness, the room around him eerily still. 

There’s a whisper, a barely-there hiss in the quiet of the room. 

Curiously, his head pokes up, then his eyes search around, roaming over the dresser, window, and sheets. 

Next to him Mitch is knocked out, drooling, and even as his heart beats faster, Auston puts the sound down as a half-asleep hallucination. 

But, 

It comes again a second later, more insistent. 

He grumbles, pulling his pillow closer to drown out the noise, and tries to go back to bed. 

Just as he's on the brink of sleep: 

“ _Aus_.” 

His eyes snap open as he props himself up, chills wracking him as he searches the room. 

Again, no one’s there. 

_No more chocolate before bed_ , he thinks crazily. 

Getting comfortable again, he turns around, his back to Mitch, and tries to fall asleep. 

“ _Aust_.” 

There. That’s real. _That’s here, in the room_. There's no denying it. 

He shoots up again, reaching his hand toward the nightstand for his phone, but he comes in contact with something warm, something fluffy. 

“ _Ow_.” 

At the sound, Auston’s shoulders drop, his heart beat slowing down. 

“Parker?” he whispers, pulling himself to the edge of the bed. 

He can just see a tuff of hair and tiny fingers lipping at the edge of the mattress. 

“Here,” gets whispered back, carefully quiet. 

Auston has to lean over the bed to see him in the barely-there light from the city that’s sneaking in past the curtains. 

Staring up with large, scared eyes, Parker is clutching Linus to his chest, his weight shifting from foot to foot. 

“Up?” he asks, small, and it’s clear he’s scared, now trying his best to climb up the side of the bed despite it being much taller than him. 

“Stop. Don’t fall,” Auston warns, reaching over to haul him up. 

Parker wastes no time, scampering closer, into his chest. He can feel the boy relaxing, setting Linus between his body and the edge of the bed as a protective barrier. 

“What’s wrong?” Auston asks, quiet. Now that he’s not scared that someone’s broken in or that Mitchy’s place is haunted, he’s relaxed, floating on the brink of sleep, fighting to stay awake and fighting to comprehend what’s happening. 

“Monster,” Parker says, easy, like it’s fact that he’s being tormented by an inter-demential being. 

Auston just hums and pulls him a little closer, tugging their blanket up, around the boy’s shoulders. His room growing up had a creepy closet- he gets it. 

-

Thankfully, the next time he wakes up it’s morning, his eyes blinking open to too-bright light and a cold bed. He immediately turns over, hiding from the direct sunlight. 

“Mitchy?” he groans, hand searching the sheets in front of him. 

The bed is empty and he listens carefully, but there’s no answer either, only the sound of movement from deeper in the apartment. 

He thinks he dozes for another couple of minutes, in and out of sleep in a way that makes time irrelevant, until he’s being jolted awake by a screech. 

When his eyes pull open Parker is butt naked, running through the room. 

Auston’s too out of it to even try to make sense of what’s happening. “What?” he asks, groggily. 

“No bath, no bath,” Parker chants, hitting the walls with flattened palms like people do on the glass during games. Already, hockey’s corrupted their sweet boy. 

“ _Parker Jo Maner_ ,” Mitch yells, from further down the hall, making Parker’s eyes widen and his mouth snap shut as he looks to Auston frantically. 

“Middle name, too, geez. Run buddy,” Auston whispers conspiratorially. 

Mitch’s head pokes in the room just as Parker’s waddling form disappears into the bathroom. 

His eyes search around before they land on Auston. 

“Oh,” Mitch says, surprised, smiling, “you’re up.” 

Auston forces down an answering grin, finally giving up on sleep as he tries not to laugh. “Bath time not going so hot?” he teases. 

Mitch’s eyes dart again around the room, then settle on the open door leading to the bathroom. 

He points, silent, questioning, and Auston nods again. 

“Well,” Mitch starts, creeping towards the bathroom, “I guess Parker’s outsmarted me again. No bath for him.” 

He’s talking purposely loud, each step careful to avoid creaky floor boards. 

They can hear Parker giggling, none the wiser. 

“Yeah, Mitchy,” Auston joins in, “I think he’s gone.” 

He abandons the warm blankets to join the attack, both of them leaning on each side of the propped-open door. 

Mitch mouths “ _one, two, three_ ,” and on command they go crashing in, Parker’s giggles turning to squeals as he tries to dodge their grabbing hands. 

They purposely let him slip away more than once, but the battle ends with Parker chest-deep in bubbles, frowning. 

“Not fair,” he says, grumbling. 

His bad mood dissipates quick as it came once Auston fashions a bubble beard for himself, then Mitch, then Parker.

-

Bath time is enough of a production that by the time they’ve eaten too, Parker is nodding off. 

Auston can’t help but lose his fight with his own yawns as him and Mitch snuggle up on the couch, alone after having put Parker in bed. 

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again.

-

Shrill, unending torture forces Auston awake. 

He finds himself groaning back at the sound that woke him, annoyed with the amount of times today he’s found himself startled awake with his heart pounding in surprise. 

The room is overly bright once again, but besides that annoyance he’s blissfully relaxed, Mitch a comfortable weight on his chest. 

There’s a blanket wrapped around him, Mitch over it, and in thanks for covering him, Auston rakes a hand through Mitch’s hair and trails it down his back, tracing skin from bone to muscle.

He’s just wondering what woke him when the shrill sound that forced his eyes open rings again, too loud in the serene quiet of the apartment. 

Auston can see that it’s his phone, only feet away on the ottoman. 

He tries to let Mitch keep sleeping as he reaches for it, but it goes off again, forcing Mitchy’s eyes to blink open blearily, confusion making way soon after for annoyance. 

“Auston,” he grumbles, turning from the sound, but Auston’s quick to settle him, stretching the last foot to grab for his phone. 

He answers it as Mitch sleepily buries his face back into the warmth of his chest. 

“Yeah?” he asks, kind of annoyed whoever’s calling took away his chance to wake up blissfully with Mitch. 

Against his neck, Mitch’s cold nose presses to his skin, searching for warmth as he fights to keep sleeping. Auston just barely squirms, his free hand gripping tight at Mitch’s waist to hold him back. He gets a muffled laugh in response, then a slightly-less freezing kiss stamped on the hollow of his throat. 

Stupidly, his heart stutters, and if the way Mitch’s teasing smile goes soft is any indication, he surely felt the give. 

“Hello?” Auston chokes out, again, busing himself with the phone call. 

His annoyance at being interrupted quickly makes way for dread as his Dad’s voice floods the line. “Auston, where are you?”

He panics for a second, trying to remember if he was supposed to pick him up from the airport, but his Dad keeps talking. “Me and your Mom just got to your place and it looks like you didn’t even come home after the game? We were worried.” 

Auston is twenty years old, he cant help but be a little bothered by the line of questioning. 

He’s also still maybe a little grumpy from being forced awake so unexpectedly. 

“I’m at Mitch’s,” he says, short. He can hear his Mom’s quick, worried voice over the line, but she’s talking to his Dad, too low for him to really make out any words. 

“Can you come back? Your Mother told me about your call to her the other night. We’d really like to talk now. We’re worried. If something’s happened or you got into some kind of trouble you need to tell us so we can help you.” 

Auston thinks back to his frantic call to his Mom as Parker wailed in the background. He can’t blame her for telling his Dad. 

What they’re saying is so overwhelmingly supportive that he cant help but feel bad. 

He wonders how they’ll take the news about Mitch, about Parker. 

He wonders how relieved they’ll be that he didn’t get anyone pregnant, and then he wonders how insane they’ll think he is for wanting to have Parker anyway. 

He’s walking a thin line, here; the most important people in his life trying to help him make a decision he’s already made. 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if things don’t go over well with his Mom or Dad. 

“How about we meet you for dinner?” he asks. 

There’s a pause, his parents voices again too low for him to hear, until finally, “We?” his Dad asks. 

Auston swallows, hard. He’s sure they can hear the gulp of air he takes. 

“Mitch and me, and Mitch’s son, Parker.” 

The pause that follows this time is twice as long and Auston has no hope of reading it, left to wonder how they’re taking the news. 

He’s a coward for telling them this way, but he couldn’t wait to just show up with a child in his arms. 

“Auston-,” his Mom starts, but his Dad cuts her off. “We should talk as a family, after we eat.” 

There’s something painfully gut wrenching about his words and he doesn't even know the whole story yet.

“Okay,” Auston agrees. 

His mom, always the mediator, says softly, “Can’t wait to see you, Papi,” 

Out of it, Auston nods, realizes she cant see him, then laughs nervously. 

“Yeah, I’ll text you where and when to meet us,” he says. 

After he hangs up, it takes Mitch another ten minutes to slowly join the land of the living. 

The whole time he waits, Auston’s eyes search the ceiling, playing out scenarios over and over in his head. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know how his parents will react when he tells them that he’s dating Mitch and trying to be a parent. 

“That feels so good,” Mitch mumbles, letting him know he’s awake now- if just barely. 

Unsure what he was even doing, Auston freezes, but Mitch’s shoulders wiggle under his palm and naturally he starts scratching there again, occasionally running his fingertips down, along the small of Mitch’s back. 

His skin is warm, making Auston realize his hands had worked their way under his shirt while he was distracted. 

“Relax,” Mitch grumbles, poking at his shoulders. Auston didn’t realize how tense he was until it's pouring out of him. 

“Did you hear all of that?” he asks.

Mitch is carefully quiet for a minute. “Some of it, I was in and out of sleep,” he eventually admits. He seems unworried, still relaxed despite the obvious tension flooding in and out of Auston. 

“Okay,” Auston says, and he tries to put on a brave face, even as his heart is stuttering painfully. 

“Everything will be fine,” Mitch promises, forcefully easy, getting up and stretching before he heads off to the bedroom. 

It’s not like him to walk away from a conversation, especially such a loaded one. 

It speaks to a much deeper problem and the dismissal make something protective surge within Auston. He can’t even imagine how many people faded away from Mitch, peers and adults alike, when they found out about his kid. 

His family won’t be like that. Not if he has any say. 

If Mitch is scared, Auston vows to be the one holding them together. So he forces himself up, forces on a easy, confident smile, and pretends like this is just like every other day.

-

Parker, at least, is pleasant after his nap, sedated in a way only a good hour of sleep can make him.

He lounges happily on Auston’s chest as Mitch gets ready for dinner, and doesn’t even fuss when they have to pass him so that Auston can shower. 

The restaurant they’re meeting at is nothing fancy, but it’s nice enough that they’ve sectioned off a small private room for them. It goes a long way in keeping Parker hidden, Mitch and Auston assuming anyone who will see them will guess that Parker is just a little cousin being watched by the Matthews. 

“Ready?” Mitch asks, in the car. 

Auston tries to steady his breathing as he reaches for the door handle. 

He’s not so sure he succeeds, but Parker asks to be picked up, reaching for him, and just the weight of the boy against his chest works towards settling some of his nerves.

His parents are as inviting as always, even if their eyes do linger on Parker long before, and even after, Auston introduces him. 

“I’m not going to lie, I think we’re both in a bit of shock here,” his Dad says as they sit down. 

Auston glares him down, glancing quickly to Mitch to see how the comment was taken, but Mitch is laughing, helping Parker out of his coat in the side of the booth between him and Auston. 

“You should’ve seen Auston’s face when he found out,” Mitch snorts, just as Auston’s finally freed Parker’s coat from the side closest to him. 

He can feel his face heat to a blush, his eyes tracking the way the light catches his silverware just for something to stare at that isn’t his parents inquisitive looks. 

There’s a spot on his fork that he knows his Mom would grimace at. 

‘Added flavor,’ he’d always say to her jokingly to halt the embarrassment of your parent asking the servers for yet another thing. 

Parker pulls him from his thoughts, his hand insistently pulling on Auston’s sleeve. 

“Aus,” he whispers, over and over again. 

Unable to hold down his smile, Auston lets it go on for another couple seconds, testing the toddler’s patience. 

“Please, Aust,” he begs, and it cracks Auston enough that he leans over. “What buddy?” 

“Ders?” Parker asks. 

Auston glances over the menu, finds the little blurb of the kid’s section and nods, pointing it out to Parker even though he can’t read yet. 

“Yeah, Park, they’ve got chicken tenders,” he assures. 

He sees Parker’s smile stretch as he hands off his menu to his Dad, as if his day’s work is done now that he knows what he’s ordering. 

When Auston looks up his parents are watching him, their gazes speculative like he knew they’d be. 

Whatever they’re thinking, they’re not wrong, so Auston goes for broke, settling his arm over the back of the booth so that his hand can settle on Mitch’s shoulder blades. 

Like he knew they would, his parents eyes follow the movement. 

His Mom’s eyebrows especially are comically high, her eyes wide. 

“Papi, what’s this?” she asks, not one to skirt around an issue. Her gaze keeps darting between the two of them for answers. 

Auston has one on the tip of his tongue, an explanation of start to finish of how he found his home in Toronto- but he’s interrupted. 

“No,” Parker yells, firmly. 

Auston grimaces against the sound, soothing a hand down the boy’s back to comfort him. 

Parker isn’t done yet, though. He points to Auston purposely, his eyes latched onto Auston’s Mom’s and clarifies, “that Aus. No Pa-” and then struggles over the rest of the nickname until he gives up, his arms still crossed in defiance, despite his trouble speaking. 

His Mom seems shocked at the ferocity, and honestly, Auston is a bit too, given that Parker normally takes hours to even warm up to talking in front of new people. 

“Well, Parker,” she smiles kindly, recovering, “his name is also sometimes Papi. It’s a nickname we gave him when he was younger.” 

Parker puzzles over it for a second, then glances up at Auston, seemingly determined. 

“Pap, Pah, Pie,” he tries out, but he can’t quite make all the sounds at once, cutting it short each time. It angers Parker enough that Auston can see the tantrum looming before it’s even hit the shore. 

His Mom must see it too. “That’s close,” she promises, encouragingly, getting Parker’s eyes to halt from growing wider as he blinks away tears. 

“Try again,” she prompts, sounding it out for him. “Pah-Pee.” 

This time Parker gets it on his third try, beaming up at Auston first before he dazzles the table with his proud grin. 

There’s a short lull after the boy’s congratulated, but Auston’s Mom is quick to delve into telling them all about his nickname, her audience completely enraptured. 

Auston knows she’s been wanting grandkids for a while now, and seeing her gentle, firm but calming presence work it’s magic tells a lot about how great she’ll be with Parker. 

He can just imagine her and Mrs. Marner gushing over the boy, him seated between them at games.

Auston bets they’d have a jersey made up in no time, a combination of his name and Mitch’s stretched across the back.

They could tell the media that he’s Mitch’s cousin but that he really likes Auston. Or they could tell the truth, Parker balanced between them at family skates and with them for events. 

Just the thought leaves him smiling to himself, lost in his own world as his fingers idly rub the stain from his fork. 

“So you’ve been trusting Parker with Auston?” His Dad laughs, dragging him back into the conversation. 

He, admittedly, looks to Mitch for his reaction, to get a gage on his own parental progress. 

“With everything but meals,” Mitch chirps, but underneath the teasing is an air of contentment. His eyes glance down, then back up, and when Auston’s parents laugh knowingly his gaze shoots to Auston. There’s a blush high on his cheeks. 

Against Mitch’s shoulder blade, Auston’s fingers have a mind of their own, tracing a gentle ‘hello,’ an intimate thankfulness for being with him, into his skin. 

Their eyes stay locked for a beat too long then, and when Mitch breaks their gazes, something in Auston snaps. 

“We’re dating, now,” he blurts out, incase any of that was unclear between their loaded touches and glances and the boy sitting between them that's leaning as much on his father as he is on Auston. 

The words force a silence to take over the table, breaths held on each side. Mitch is looking at him like he's crazy, but he's smiling, too. 

Eventually Auston talks himself into looking to his parents. 

His Mom is smiling, too, but his Dad’s face is doing something much more complicated. 

“That’s so great, honey. We’re so happy for you two,” his Mom promises, reaching over the table to squeeze his hand and then Mitch’s. 

His Dad echos the notion, shaking Mitch’s hand and giving his shoulder a gruff pat, but still there’s something unreadable on his face that has Auston shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Well, don’t short out on us,” his Mom teases, “tell us how it happened.” 

She leans forward, his Dad leans back, and Mitch starts the story, Auston trying to keep his smile even as his eyes flick carefully from his plate to his Dad. 

His Mom reads it wrong. “Oh, Papi,” she coos, battling at him, “don’t be so shy, celebrate your boyfriend.” 

Her love for them makes his smile less pressed, his hand finding Mitch’s between them, Parker settled against his side. 

Whatever his Dad’s problem is, he’s not going to let it take away from the joy of the moment.

-

He waits for the inevitable.

Sure enough, back at his place, his Dad corners him on the balcony. 

There’s a drink in his hand. 

Through the windows, looking in, Auston can see Mitch, Parker, and his Mom bruising themselves over a dessert recipe. 

“They’re a cute family,” his Dad starts, both of them ignoring the view of the city for the one inside. 

Seeing them all content and laughing makes Auston square up. He’s not going to sit back and roll over with this. His Dad can get over whatever’s making his gaze pinched. 

“Whatever you’re going to say, just say it,” Auston says. 

The drink in his Dad’s hands is put down, his gaze sharp. 

“Being a father is a commitment. It’s harder than anything you’ll ever do in your life but it’s the most rewarding,” his voice is hard, preaching. 

“Dad,” Auston tries, exasperated, but he’s leveled with a look, a warning to listen, to take in, everything he’s saying. 

“Auston, you’re raising a person. He’ll have his own beliefs and loves, and he’ll fight you.” His Dad’s voice breaks with a laugh at that, knowingly. Auston can see him wiping at his eyes, and it forces something in him to drop as he comes closer to settle a hand on his Dad’s shoulder, to ground him. 

“Dad-” he tries again, but he’s silenced, this time as he’s pulled into a hug. 

He’s clearing his own eyes as they release each other, his Dad patting a hand against his chest. 

“That boy will make your life hell and he’ll make your life worth living. Some days you’ll want to hide away from all the responsibilities you’ll face, but other days you’ll be hit with how life changing this is. This is- there’s nothing that can compare. He’s your child, Auston. And if you abandon him, that’s it. That’s his world, his whole life you’re fracturing.” 

He can feels his eyes widening, his head shaking, ‘no,’ frantic. “Never,” he promises, firm, his Dad’s hands clenching at his shoulders. 

There’s a steady nod shared between them; an understanding. This isn’t playing parent for a day, or week, or month, or year. Auston is in this for the long run. 

It’s a terrifying thought, but a joyous one. 

His Dad’s hands clench again at his shoulders, his pinched look finally dissipating. “Then you have our blessing, our help, whenever you need it, as long as you’re as responsible for that boy as Mitch is.” 

Their eyes locked, Auston takes his duty to heart, never wavering as he answers, “Of course. Thank you, Dad.” 

He’s pulled into another hug, and for the first time he feels like a man as he’s wrapped and held in the cradle of his father’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed the writer! 
> 
> Guys your ideas in the comments literally killed me they were amazing. Honestly this chapter again was another hard one but reading through your guys' ideas kept my mind working and got my fingers typing so thank you to everyone who has been commenting you're keeping me going!


	9. Chapter 9

The beginning days of the week pass in a blur like a slap-shot wizzing through open air. 

Auston barely has time to stop and breathe, yet alone marvel over the feeling of openly loving the Marners in front of his friends and his family. 

Over the course of a couple days his life has turned into a whirlwind of playdates, family requests, and watching parenting youtube videos that, despite Mitch’s claims, are far more reliable than the critically acclaimed books hidden in the living room bookshelf. 

On Monday night his Mom and Dad FaceTime him to say goodnight to Parker as he tucks him in, Mitch down the hall already sleeping in what’s become their bed; on Tuesday he takes Parker to a kid’s museum to give Mitch a night off; On Wednesday he curls up with his boys and they put on a movie that he only sees ten minutes of before he’s fast asleep. 

The point is- he’s really started to settle into his new life, accepting his charges with open arms, even though he feels like his tank it starting to hit empty. 

He doesn’t know how Mitch managed this on his own for two years. 

Just this week with Mitch constantly helping and within arms reach at all times was difficult enough. 

Thursday’s the seal on his coffin. He accepts his title as ‘Momma Matthews’ from Werenski as they’re sipping on beers, his phone ringing, lit up with a picture of Mitch and Parker, on the table between the two of them. 

“Take it,” Zach insists, sliding out of their booth to grab them a fresh round of drinks. 

Auston can barely contain his smile as he swipes to answer, crowding the phone to his ear and ducking his head low for some semblance of privacy in the midst of the packed bar.

“Hey,” he answers. 

In the background he can hear Thomas the Train playing and it makes his smile stretch wider, his stomach swirling warm with the need to be home. 

“Parker’s being difficult,” Mitch whines, and Auston knows he’s teasing, but still, it makes him feel guilty for being out. 

“I can come back now,” he says right away. 

Zach is just sliding back into the booth and his face goes sour at Auston’s offer, shaking his head ‘no.’

Mitch mimics Zach unknowingly, laughing “no way, Aus,” down the line. 

“What’s Parker doing then? Why is he being difficult?” Auston asks, at least hoping he can give Mitch some kind of break by listening to him complain.

He doesn’t expect the way Mitch’s voice goes soft; “He wanted you.” 

Auston can practically hear Mitch biting his lip over the line. If he was home right now he’d drag his thumb along the bitten, blush red of Mitch’s lips and devour them himself, teaching him not to naw on the skin there. 

“Oh _he_ missed me, sure,” Auston teases. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Zach roll his, taking a large gulp of his drink. 

Auston kicks him under the table then looks up at him innocently, mouthing, “oops.” 

“Aus?” Mitch asks. 

He sounds nervous so Auston pulls his attention back in, humming down the line to let him know he’s listening. 

“I was kidding before, but Parker is actually refusing to go to sleep,” he admits. 

Again, guilt floods Auston, even though him and Zach had these plans for weeks. 

Mitch has been dealing with everything on his own for two years, yet Auston’s one week in and already getting a break, a night out with a friend without the weight of parenthood on his shoulders. 

“Why? Isn’t Linus there?” He asks, knowing normally all Parker needs is some cartoons and his stuffed animal to be out like a light. 

“Yeah, but…” Mitch trails off. 

Auston waits him out. 

“He wanted you to say goodnight to him,” he finally admits, unknowingly stabbing a knife right through Auston’s heart. 

Mitch takes his silence as answer, hurrying to say, “It’s okay. It’s stupid. I told him you’d be back tomorrow-“ 

Auston chokes over his words more than once before he can finally cut Mitch off. “Mitchy, shut up,” he laughs, light with happiness. He can practically hear Mitch’s mouth clack shut. 

“I was just shocked and happy and I just- please put Parker on?” 

After a second of baited breath he hears Mitch say “It’s Auston,” soft as a breeze, over what must be speaker phone. 

There’s hectic shuffling that clouds the line for seconds too long, then an exasperated “Parker!” from Mitch, before he hears a small “hi,” come through.  
He can perfectly picture Parker sat up in bed, struggling to hold onto the phone that’s too big for his hands. 

“Hey Buddy, I miss you,” Auston says truthfully, feeling the ache of his honestly deep in his chest. 

The phone is starting to get slippery in his grip, his fingers cramping from how hard he’s cradling the thing to his ear to get every sound. 

He can just imagine being there, sitting on the bed across from Mitch, Parker tucked under a sea of blankets, happy and safe in their home. 

“I really wanted to say goodnight to you, Parks,” he confesses, feeling his words in his throat. 

Opening his eyes to the scene of the bar is only another painful reminder that he’s not home right now. This isn’t his scene anymore. 

“Night, Pa,” Parker calls, too loud for how close Auston’s holding the phone to his ear. He doesn’t care about the ringing crowding his senses, all he cares about is the way Parker’s slowly starting to pick up on his Mom’s nickname for him, trying his best to work his way to ‘Papi.’

Auston can’t help but be happy that Parker hasn’t mastered the name yet. He’ll gladly stay as “Pa” for as long as time allows. It’s one step closer to Papa, even if Parker doesn’t know it. Auston will let himself dream. 

“Goodnight Park,” he whispers. 

“And be good for Dad,” he adds, even softer, a second after. 

He can just imagine the shy smile probably taking over Mitch’s face right now, and even though he’s only been out for a couple hours, he already yearns to be home. 

“Bye, Aus,” Mitch says as he hears the door to Parker’s room click closed. 

“See you soon, Mitchy,” he says back, wishing he’d already be half way back to the apartment. 

Zach is sitting quietly with his eyebrows raised in jest as Auston hangs up the phone. 

“What?” Auston asks defensively, hiding his smile under the lip of his beer bottle.

“Momma Matthews is legit,” Zach whispers in awe. “I thought the guys were fucking with me.” 

“What guys?” Auston jabs back. 

Zach just raises his hands in innocence. “Just a few little birdies,” he chirps. 

Auston drowns the joke in more beer, picking at the label of his IPA as he thinks on what Zach has said. 

“People aren’t really supposed to know about Parker,” he admits when Zach’s teasing smile goes a pinch worried. 

“Everyone who’s talking is only talking to people who already know,” he assures quickly, and to some extent it calms Auston down, knowing Parker is safe from the fishbowl of Toronto media ever catching wind of his story. 

“Can we talk about that sexual tension though?” Zach asks, effectively changing the subject, “Because I could fucking feel it from all the way over here, one phone call and three feet away.” 

Auston’s glare is enough to silence him, even if it makes them both dissolve into a laugh seconds after. 

Still, “We’re having our first date this weekend,” he argues, “it’s different when Parker’s in the picture. We cant just throw down whenever the mood’s right.” 

Any humor on Zach’s face disappears under disgust. 

“Dude,” he cries, “I just realized this is Marns were talking about.” 

Auston clinks their glasses together, drinking greedily from his own bottle as Zach does, his. 

“I had to listen to you talk about Jenny from Senior year,” Auston points out once he’s done drowning away the image of Zach thinking about him and Mitch getting it on. 

Zach can only wince, because, _yeah_ , Jenny from Senior year wins out over everything. She tried to keep a piece of Zach’s hair. And that’s one of the least creepy things she did. 

There’s a restraining order and everything, thousands of stories that Auston had the pleasure of sitting through, with Zach’s word that when the time comes he’ll sit quietly and listen to every one of Auston’s own relationship woos and triumphs. 

“Touché,” his friend decides, finishing off his drink. 

Auston smiles despite himself. 

-

By Friday he’s ready for quiet weekend home with Mitch and Parker to really come down from the rush of all the changes going on around him. 

Mitch is ready to start play again, being cleared after his night with the flu, but that doesn’t stop Auston from worrying on top of everything else. 

“Drink up,” he offers, throwing a unopened bottle Mitch’s way. 

They’ve just finished morning skate and Mitch is already looking a little too pale for his taste. 

“Such a mother hen,” Marty teases him from across the locker room while he’s stripping down. 

Easily Auston shrugs away the chirp, uncaring. It’s been a while since he’s felt this comfortable in his own skin and he can only thank the blanket of parenthood shrouding him. 

Still, he tries to hide the way he presses the back of his hand to Mitch’s forehead, checking for a fever. It’s not his fault that he’s worried- seeing Mitch and Parker sick was something he’d gladly not go through again. 

Against his palm, Mitch’s skin is damp with sweat, but that’s all Auston can tell before his boyfriend is dodging him, laughing as he pushes him away. 

“I’m fine, Aus,” he promises, despite his flushed appearance. 

There’s not much more that he can do so he gives in, accepting Mitch’s promises of good health as they pack up to go home to take their pregame naps and eat. 

-

Parker is more than happy to see them once they get back to Mitch’s apartment. He practically leaves Mrs. Marner in the dust as he toddles to them, crashing into their legs. 

“He was very grumpy when he woke up this morning and you guys were gone,” she admits. 

Auston tries not to feel bad, but it’s hard as Parker squeezes them with all his might, as if never wanting to let them go. 

It only takes one of them trying to step away for the water works to begin; Parker looking up at them with his blue eyes drowning in tears. 

“Hey,” Mitch soothes, alarmed, running his hands through Park’s hair. But Parker doesn’t even let up an inch, still with an arm wrapped around each of their legs, refusing to let go, even to be comforted. 

He’s not normally this clingy, and even fresh off the boat parent Auston can tell that something is off with him. 

When they look up to Mrs. Marner for answers all she can do is shrug. 

Parker is a handful, any kid is, really, and she looks exhausted enough from dealing with him that Mitch lets it go, forcefully detaching Parker from their legs only to cradle him to his chest. 

“Say bye to Grandma,” he prompts, but Parker just barely glances her way, his face staying hidden against his Dad’s shoulder as he continues to silently cry. 

Over his twenty years, Auston’s heard some pretty heartbreaking wails, but somehow Parker’s silent cries always get to him the most. It’s like the toddler doesn’t even have the strength to scream out, so dejected he doesn’t even want to make a sound to draw attention to himself. 

Auston hates the way his own chest aches in response, longing to hold the boy close to help sooth whatever mood he’s in. 

It hits him then that they have years of bad days and, eventually, teenage angst in front of them. He’s excited for it, probably a little less jaded than Mitch when dealing with tantrums, and even still he’s worried for when karma comes for them, making up for all their mistakes and fits through juniors. 

They’ll definitely have their hands full, especially if Mitch ever wants to have another kid like Auston kind of hopes he does. 

That’s a thought for another day, though, Auston concedes, shaking himself back to the present. 

Right now one kid is more than enough. 

Mrs. Marner is waving away Mitch’s apologies for Parker’s behavior, kissing the back of the toddler’s head, then squeezing Mitch’s arm and Auston’s before she gathers her things. 

“See you boys tonight,” she says, “I talked to Ema and we’re just going to stay for the first period with Parker.”

“Sounds good,” Mitch nods, following her out to lock the door after her. 

Auston waves his own goodbye before he collapses to the couch, grabbing the remote to check what’s on. He’s just sore enough from practice that the cushions feel amazing and already his eyes feel heavy enough to drop on command. 

Mitch joins him only seconds later, laying Parker on his chest before he curls into Auston’s side. 

Parker’s tears have dried and he’s blinking heavily enough now that Auston knows it wont be long until he’s fast asleep too. 

With the added warmth and comfort Auston’s asleep before he knows it, even with the way his mind is running, ecstatic, over the way Parker clung to Mitch but so easily allowed himself to be passed to him.

-

Waking up peacefully is a dream Auston’s long since given up on. 

He wakes up to knees digging into his stomach, Parker crawling down his chest to the end of the couch.

He’s still drifting, only half awake, but a nearly catastrophic knee-placement from Parker has him shooting up, gently pulling the toddler back against his chest. 

“Where you going, buddy?” He asks, voice still groggy with sleep. 

Parker just shrugs, curling back against him silently. It doesn’t slip Auston’s notice that Parker hasn’t said a word since they came home and in his head alarms are blaring, warning that something’s wrong.

“Want to get up?” He asks, hoping for an answer, but Parker just shrugs again, uncommitted. 

It’s hard to extract themselves from Mitch’s arms, but Mitch barely even resettles as Auston crawls over him and then pulls Parker up after him. 

“Daddy’s sleeping really heavy,” Auston whispers, when Parker reaches for Mitch. “Just like you, he’s still recovering from the flu.” 

Understanding that he can’t have his Dad, Parker’s lower lip wobbles, but instead of crying he just wraps his arms around Auston’s neck, pressing his face to his shoulder to look away from Mitch. 

“He’ll wake up soon,” Auston promises, but looking down at him he’s not so sure. Mitch is completely dead to the world, his mouth slightly open and drooling onto the pillow. 

If he’s going to play tonight and not feel awful Auston knows he needs to rest. 

“Why don’t we make him something so that when he wakes up he can eat and be nice and ready to play?” 

Parker doesn’t even react to his words, but Auston takes them to the kitchen anyway. 

Each extra minute of silence is only worrying him further. 

The fridge is nearing empty, the cabinets too, and with a wince Auston remembers that they were supposed to go grocery shopping the day before, but instead went out to eat with his parents. 

“Want to go shopping?” He asks Parker, not expecting an answer, but willing to try anyway. 

He’s surprised when the boy’s head shoots up, his furrowed brow scrunching up his forehead as he stares Auston down as if trying to decide what he wants. 

“If you answer with words then you can go,” Auston prompts. He’s sure that in that moment if Parker was anymore annoyed his eyes would roll. 

“Yes,” the boy chirps instead, the constant threat of tears from earlier starting to ebb away. 

Satisfied, Auston scribbles out a note for Mitch and grabs his wallet, keys, and the backpack Mitch uses for Parker’s stuff before they head down to the car. 

The ride itself isn’t bad, but it gives Auston time to worry over Parker’s mood. He’s never seen the boy so sullen, except for when they had to leave him, and it’s starting to really grate on his nerves, making his stomach twist unpleasantly with worry. 

It’s the worry turning inside of him that he later blames for his obliviousness. 

They’ve got everything they need, heading towards the checkout, when Parker’s hand starts tugging on his sleeve, which he can just barely reach leaning forward from the grocery cart’s seat. 

“What’s up?” Auston asks, still going down the aisle, but a sob starts to escape Parker that has him halting, checking over the boy for answers. 

Parker tries to grab at the aisle to the left of them, and reluctantly Auston takes in the sight of toys and stuffed animals. 

He knows he’s a push over and would buy Parker anything he so much as looked at, but he doesn’t want the boy to know that yet, especially when he’s in such a mood. 

But then another sob starts to escape Parker’s mouth and all Auston can do is give in, turning down the aisle sharply to avoid stares. 

The last thing they need is their picture over every website and magazine with abduction claims, he reasons. 

It isn’t until Parker is grabbing for a stuffed animal moose hanging sadly by one hoof off of the shelf that Auston feels the blood drain from his face. 

_Linus._ He forgot linus. 

For a panicked moment he wonders if he dropped the stuffed animal along the way, but he cant remember ever even packing the elephant to begin with. 

He checks the backpack just to be sure, but there’s still no sign of him. 

“Where’s Linus?” Auston asks Parker, feeling absolutely terrible. The boy’s already in such a pained state and Auston’s only gone and managed to make things worse, forgetting the boy’s one safety blanket. 

At the question Parker’s eyes start watering up, and without thought Auston yanks the stuffed moose off the shelf, pressing it into Parker’s reaching arms to placate him. 

The tears stop instantly, almost suspiciously fast, but Auston can’t be bothered to look into it, soothing back Parker’s hair and digging out a tissue to wipe off the boy’s blotchy face. 

“Better?” He asks, as Parker snuggles the toy. But Parker doesn't smile, big and dopy like his father, like he normally does when gifted something. Instead he shrugs again, his arms wrapped around the moose for comfort as he hides his teary eyes against the animal’s fur. 

Auston just hopes Mitch has some idea of what’s going on, because he’s at a loss. 

-

Once they get home, Auston lets Parker sit on the living room floor and introduce his trains to the stuffed animal that’s nearly half of his size as he unpacks their groceries. 

Mitch is still blissfully asleep on the couch, the blankets freshly retucked around his neck, and he doesn’t seem like he’ll be waking up anytime soon. 

They’ve still got four hours until they need to get dressed, so Auston isn’t too worried. If anything, Mitch can eat in the car if he oversleeps. 

So Auston putters around the apartment, cleaning up the kitchen and putting food away all while he heats up noodles and chicken for their pregame meal. 

He’s got his phone playing some of his cleaner music, and the stove going, and he blames that for why he turns around minutes later to see that Parker is gone from his spot, the new moose abandoned with the trains. 

Experience tells him not to panic, but that doesn’t stop the way he rushes to turn off the stove before he starts searching around, quietly calling Parker’s name so that he doesn’t wake Mitch. 

His search doesn’t last long- Parker’s bedroom door is open- but when he finds the toddler in his bed, he doesn’t expect the way the boy’s head guiltily shoots up while he quickly covers something with his blankets. 

“Parker,” Auston warns, coming closer. “What did you just hide?” 

The boy’s head shakes, no, as if he doesn’t know what Auston’s referring to, even as his hands tightly hold down the edge of the blanket. 

“Show me,” Auston demands, stern but gentle. 

Parker’s lip wobbles, breaking Auston’s heart, but he wont back down, not while not knowing if what the boy’s hiding could hurt him. 

“Now, Parker,” he pushes, steeling himself.

The boy’s hand slowly releases the sheets, and Auston peels back the blankets, his mind jumping from confusion quickly to understanding, then sadness. 

“Oh Parker, honey,” he comforts, seeing Linus carefully laid out. 

The stuffed animal’s arm is bursting cotton, the limb hanging on by only one thin, breaking line of thread. 

His knowing reaction only starts up another silent thrum of tears from Parker, the toddler hiding his face in his balled fists as his sobs grow harsher and harsher, his breathing more panicked. 

It only took Auston two days knowing the Marners to figure out that Linus was a godsend. The stuffed animal was a gift on the day Parker was born and since then he’s been a staple, keeping the kid sleeping through the night, with company during the day, and with a safety blanket for all the nights he spent thousands and thousands of miles away from his Dad. 

It was the threat of pulling Linus from his arms that gave way to Parker’s first word- a screeched “no.” 

It was Linus who cushioned Parker’s falls as he learned how to walk. 

And it was Linus who Parker to clung to when his anxiety would pile up on him, forcing him to hide against the stuffed animal’s chest as adults and kids alike tried to talk to him. 

This isn’t just a stuffed animal. It’s Parker’s best friend, his favorite toy, his one, constant comfort. 

Auston tries to pick him up as more sobs tear through his throat, but Parker clings to the bed, screaming and reaching for Linus but scared to rip him further. 

Normally Auston would be hurt at the reaction, but he knows this is out of his control. 

The stuffed animal is years too old, probably only surviving through the child’s first year because of how easily he soothed the boy and because of how much Parker loves him. 

Throwing out the stuffed animal just isn’t an option, and replacing it isn’t either, if the discarded moose in the living room is anything to go by. 

Auston’s mind is turned, but he has a solution before he’s even thought it through. He gently makes Parker face him while he picks up Linus with extra care. 

“Abuela can fix this,” he promises, despite not knowing if the stuffed animal is beyond saving. 

Thankfully Parker quiets some, his head tilting questionably at the unknown name as he sniffles, and it’s only his reaction that makes Auston’s face heat, realizing the ease in which the name came to him. 

“You remember my Mom,” he recovers quickly, wondering why he was so fast to name her as ‘grandma’ to Parker, especially in his mother’s language. 

But Parker only nods quickly at his explanation, reaching up for Auston to take him to her to get Linus fixed as fast as they can. 

Relieved at the acceptance, Auston picks him up with ease, leaving a new note in the kitchen for Mitch, who, despite the noise, is still fast asleep, giving him another thing to worry about. 

Auston’s not going to ignore his recent slip with Parker, but he figures whatever conversation him and Mitch need to have about the ‘Abuela’ situation can be dealt with later, once Linus is fixed and Parker is okay. 

-

His Mom is more than happy to see them when she opens up the door to his apartment, ushering them in with renewed joy even as Parker’s eyes and cheeks reveal hours of tears. 

Auston’s place feels different as he walks in, almost foreign and cold despite the obvious signs of life all around. 

“You guys should’ve just taken my room,” he comments, when he sees the guest bedroom filled with his parent’s luggage. 

His Mom openly laughs at him, forgoing her attempts to get Parker to say ‘hi’ to her as she raises an eyebrow, “and when was the last time your room was cleaned?” 

He can only imagine the mess. The last couple times he came back were only to grab clothes and then leave again, back to Mitch’s.

“Sorry,” he offers, halfheartedly. 

Parker’s been patiently waiting in his arms, cradling Linus to his chest, and it’s only now that he tugs on the collar of Auston’s shirt, begging. 

“Do you happen to have a sewing kit?” Auston asks. “We have a patient in need of some stitches,” he says as he gently hands over the stuffed animal. 

His Mom coos at the broken toy, gently grabbing Parker’s tiny hand in hers to comfort him. “We’ll fix him right up,” she promises, unknowingly relieving both her son and Parker’s stress. 

It’s only then that Parker finally perks up, a shy smile making way, past his seemingly permanent frown. 

“Thanks,” the toddler mumbles unprompted, half the word obstructed by the smile he hides in Auston’s chest. 

Something in Auston’s chest snaps, warming instantly, and he’s forced to sit down under the heat, bouncing Parker in his lap as the boy watches his Abuela carefully lay out Linus on the kitchen table. 

Auston just hopes she can fix him for good, or otherwise him and Mitch can kiss their date night goodbye. There’s no way Parker will let them leave him with the guys to babysit if he doesn’t have his safety blanket. 

So, with baited breath, Auston and Parker watch carefully as Ema measures out thread, cutting it precisely before looping it through her needle. 

“Parker,” she calls, then, “Stat,” like the medical shows, “Our patient needs his hand held so that he doesn’t feel even a pinch of pain,” she exaggerates, pulling the boy in closer. 

Parker goes willing, climbing up onto the table to hold Linus’s other arm as she begins her work. 

“You’re doing perfect,” Auston praises Parker, his smile fond as his boy stares intently down at his stuffed animal, holding it with such care and love as it gets put back together. 

Auston already knows Parker will grow up wanting to take care of others and make them smile, just like his Dad. 

In the end, the patch work isn’t anything fancy, but it does the job, leaving Linus with a newly attached arm that could probably survive another good year of being tugged and dragged around. 

Auston can’t bare to even think about that they’ll do when the time comes for the stuffed animal to go, but for now he’s more than content as him and Parker fashion a sling for Linus, both of them eating lollypops for being good nurses for Dr. Ema Matthews. 

-

It’s almost funny when Auston comes home from the game that night wrapped in a sling of his own, his shoulder thrumming with pain even under a heavy dose of pain killers. 

“Surprise,” he intones, high as a kite, to his Mom as he thuds his way through the door, Mitch trailing after him. 

“Surprise,” Mitch repeats, less amused and more apologetic to Ema. 

She can only offer them a grimace, quick to guide Auston to the couch. Mitch has to rush to help her lower him gently, but then he’s back up, hesitating as he hovers uncertainly, wringing his hands. 

“Honey?” Ema questions, worried over his state. 

“I have to go get Parker,” he admits. “I didn’t want to keep Auston in the car for longer than necessary and he shouldn’t be alone,” he rushes to explain. 

Ema waves away his fretting. “Go get Parker, Mitch. I’ve taken care of Auston enough times to know what I’m in for,” she teases. 

It breaks her heart the way he deflates as if the string that’s been holding him up has been cut. 

“I can be back in forty minutes if traffic is good,” he starts explaining, but Ema grabs his hand to slow down his seemingly frantic thoughts. She can’t imagine being twenty and under the pressure these boys face every day, all while throwing a toddler into the mix. 

“Brian will be back from the game soon. We can watch over Auston or bring him back to yours, whichever you prefer,” she assures him. 

It’s not easy to take care of her child when her child’s outgrown her by nearly a hundred pounds and is high on pain meds, but she figures she can handle things until her husband is back, hopefully with an explanation of what happened to their son. 

She just can’t ask for that from Mitch now, as he panics over his commitment to Auston and his outweighing commitment to being a father. 

“I don’t want to overstep,” Mitch starts, but Ema can see where this is going and she cuts it off before he can go down that path, surprised that Mitch feels it's his responsibility to take care of Auston. 

“Taking Auston off our hands isn’t overstepping, it's our job as parents to take care of him” she assures him, gently guiding him to the door. “How about if Auston’s feeling up to the drive, Brian will bring him back to yours once you have Parker home?” 

She can see Mitch’s eyes jump from thought to thought, but he ultimately nods, slowing his breathing as she rubs a hand down his arm, reminding him to take a second to gather himself. 

“Drive safe,” she warns him before letting him go, "Don't hurry back. We're happy to keep Auston here all week, all year, however long it takes." 

She doesn’t even have time to turn around once the door's closed before Auston’s peaking over the edge of the couch looking terribly young as his eyes search for Mitch. 

“He just had to go get Parker,” she explains patiently when she meets his stare. 

Auston and pain pills has never been the most eloquent mix, but he manages to hold himself together, scrubbing his hand over his face as he groans. 

“Papi,” she warns, “I’m a pro at taking care of you. You should be happy.” 

His blown eyes meet hers for only another second before he’s closing them, resting his head back on the lip of the couch as if it’s too heavy to hold up. 

“Mitch needs me,” he tells her, earnest despite his relaxed, splayed form. 

She’s not so sure that they’d be having this conversation if he wasn’t high. 

“No, you need Mitch right now,” she corrects, knowing if Auston could he’d be fighting to stay in the car just to go with his boyfriend to pick up Parker. 

He doesn’t fight her, and while she has a captive audience she uses her stage appropriately. 

“Auston, you’ll let him take care of you,” she tells him. 

He’s never been one to sit still and let others fix him, and injuries have never been easy because of that. 

“I’ll try,” he relents, but his voice is hoarse, half his mind asleep under the lull of pain relief. 

She can only sigh, tucking a blanket around him and smoothing back his hair as he gives in to sleep. 

One day, he'll understand that loving someone is letting them see you at your weakest, allowing them to help pull you up from the trenches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER- LIFE AND LIL BIT OF WRITER'S BLOCK GOT IN THE WAY
> 
> Your comments kept me thinking and planning and writing for this chapter and I can’t thank you guys enough for motivating me to finish this bit <3 any ideas on where you’d like to see the story go are greatly appreciated!


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